


My Nimlis headcanons

by MadameReveuse



Category: Children of the Lamp - P. B. Kerr
Genre: I call it Nimlis and I'm proud, Iblis has a potty mouth, M/M, Very mild slash, may contain character death, may contain characters being suicidal, this pairing is my design, tw: mentions of rape in some chapters, yes this IS what I'm doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 76,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameReveuse/pseuds/MadameReveuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, you might have seen this story on fanfiction.net. Yes, Nimlis means Nimrod/Iblis. Yes, I ship them. Yes, I might need help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Headcanons

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody and welcome to my…random CotL thing! This fic has reached a nice little audience over at fanfiction.net, and I heard someone say that this site is way better, so I thought I’d upload it here. Especially seeing as there is only one (!) work in this fandom, and that’s not much. So, if you are of the opinion that Nimrod and Iblis could make a cute couple, I invite you to read on. If you are not of that opinion, read on anyway and let me convince you! ;)  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters. OF COURSE I DON’T. If I did, I surely wouldn’t write about them on a fanfiction site. …Or would I? Because that would be wicked.  
> An explanation for the unwary: This starting chapter is a list of my headcanons. The following chapters will be oneshots based on either these headcanons or anything else that my brain puked out at the time. The order will be the same as on ff.net.  
> Well, here go the headcanons:

1.Nimrod and Iblis have been mortal enemies for so long, making them so familiar with each other’s characters, methods, vices, weaknesses, etc. that they basically know everything about one another and thus interact like an old married couple, only that one half occasionally tries to kill the other. Happens in the best families, right...? Whenever they happen to meet it’s like   
“Oh hey Marid, how’s life, stopped chewing your damn nails yet?”  
“Well hello, Ifrit, stopped producing random sons yet?”  
“Hey, fuck you!”  
And then they fight. And through some totally incomprehensible miracle, they both make it out alive. 

2\. Nimrod is technically bi/pansexual; he loves people for personality, not for gender. He has told only Layla about this; Iblis also happens to know…because of reasons.

3\. Nimrod secretly hopes to set Iblis straight.

4\. Because he loves him.

5\. Yes, you read the two above right. Yes, I ship them. This says Nimlis for a reason. You can’t say you haven’t been warned.

6\. Iblis knows the things above, but he chooses to ignore them. He doesn’t want or know how to handle Nimrod’s affection. Also he does not need help. At least that’s what he thinks.

7\. Iblis does it for the kicks. 

8\. Nimrod can’t swim. He just never learned to.

9\. Iblis hated his father.

10\. Iblis loves his sons. He really does. He’s also in a clinch with all of their (wide variety of) mothers, so he raised most of them alone. The number of Ifritsons in my head varies from five to about nine? It’s a whole lot of them, that’s for sure.

11\. Both consider themselves single. Nimrod had this one failed marriage with Alexandra that is technically broken up now, and given his personality, he never really looked for anyone else and is just more or less contently living the bachelor’s life now.  
Rudyard and his bros must have come from somewhere, but no woman in Iblis’ life is ever mentioned, so... he’s probably Mr. Failed Relationships or something.

12\. Nimrod collects ornate snuffboxes. And umbrellas, red ones. And all kinds of antique stuff.

13\. Nimrod likes strawberry jam. A lot. He’s really into it.

14\. Iblis is one of the very few djinn who learned to cook for himself. And his sons. Mostly his sons. But also himself.

15\. Both know how to play at least one instrument. 

16\. Iblis is really good in bed.

17\. Iblis is secretly a hardened alcoholic. The way he drank that Brandy in part one? C’mon, it’s so damn obvious. Dude’s got a problem.

18\. Dybbuk is a result of the two points above. 

19\. Iblis likes the neon lights in Vegas. He spends his nights on a casino roof looking down at them feeling like a god.

20\. Iblis’ ancestors invented Poker. 

21\. Iblis refers to Nimrod as “Marid”. He barely ever uses his name. When he gives orders concerning Nimrod to his Ifrit, things go like   
“Yeah, someone should totally keep tabs on what that damn Marid is doing.”  
“Um, sir, which one? You... know that there’s... more than one Marid...?  
“NOT TO ME THERE ISN’T”

22\. The two of them meet up at Djinnverso tournaments in peace. They play and insult each other and have a great time.

23\. Whenever he’s not plotting freak revenge on someone, Iblis actually does do tribal leader duties. He helps young Ifrit kids through their Tammuz and stuff. And it’s amazing. 

23.5 Yes, it is. Imagine: You’re a young djinn, alone in the desert. Your guys have left you here with nothing but a dictionary (what do you even need that for?), a sleeping bag and that old lamp thing. You have no powers yet. You’re frightened. You’ve heard rumors about the Tammuz from friends or older siblings, so you pick up the lamp and rub it... and then, not wise old Mr. Rakshasas or Nimrod, who radiates goodwill like the sun radiates light, but... this guy pops out.   
“Oh hey there. You’re that guy/girl, right? Great. I’m Iblis, tribal leader, you’ve probably heard stories. And I’m here tonight to tell you how the djinn came to be. Yaay. Can I get an encore in here?”  
You: *slow clap*  
“That’ll do. Now listen up here, and I mean listen up, this stuff is very important. Cigarette?”  
You’ll probably take the cigarette, but you won’t smoke it. You’ll hang it in a frame on your bedroom wall to forever remember that awesome night where you met the World’s Most Evil.

24\. Nimrod secretly has a deep-rooted dislike against all Americans and everything that is American, but he keeps quiet about it to his family. He’s just social that way.

25\. Nimrod picks stray cats and puppies off the street and takes them to animal shelters. But he’d never adopt. He wouldn’t like shed fur and nasty business all over his house. Also, Groanin would be appalled.

26\. Nimrod loves the royal family, especially the Queen.

27\. It is not known to anyone but himself if Nimrod ever had sex.

28\. Every year on his birthday, Nimrod will receive a “mysterious” phone call from Las Vegas, which he’ll act very surprised about. Upon answering the phone, an evil voice will say: “I wish you an unhappy birthday, Marid.” Then the “mysterious stranger” will hang up.  
Groanin has long stopped asking about these. [done]

29\. There should be an AU where Iblis is good and Nimrod is evil.

30\. There should be an AU where both of them are women.

31\. Or a combination thereof.


	2. Birthday Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, or “Did I just write a 1600 word story about a guy calling another guy and both guys are characters in the most underrated book series ever”  
> Anyway, I said there would be oneshots, so here’s a oneshot! I don’t own any of the characters or the city of Las Vegas (would be so cool if I did though. I swear I’ll go to Vegas one day just to revel in Ifrit glory).  
> Where does the name “Odair” come from? I made it up…it’s a stupid name. I think a true son of Iblis deserves a really stupid name. “Rudyard” is a stupid name. “Dybbuk” is a stupid name. And now there’s “Odair”. Enjoy!

For Nimrod a birthday wasn’t complete without the surprise phonecall.  
He couldn’t remember the exact year in which it had started, but it had gone on ever since. It would mostly happen in the evening, sometimes earlier, sometimes at night, but never after midnight when it wasn’t technically Nimrod’s birthday anymore. He had developed a habit of staying up late on his birthday, not going to bed until the call came. It had become a little routine for his butler and him.  
“Call from overseas, sir” Groanin would say, approaching Nimrod with the phone. In the first year of it, he had thought it to be his sister until Groanin had raised an eyebrow and added “Las Vegas”.  
“Oh!” Nimrod would exclaim, for all the world acting very surprised. “What could someone from there want from me?”  
Groanin would answer with a shrug, year after year.  
“Well, let’s see” Nimrod would say and answer the phone. “Nimrod Godwin, what can I do for you?”  
And an evil voice would drawl: “I wish you an unhappy birthday, Marid.”  
And then the mysterious caller would hang up.  
And Nimrod would spend the rest of the day having the happiest of birthdays, as usual.  
The call had only startled him the first time. In the years after, he had been rather annoyed by it, but as time went by, he had come to accept it, and now he could barely imagine a birthday without it.  
Groanin had long stopped asking about it.  
Whenever the call came, Nimrod had already prepared himself to strike up a conversation with his mystery malefactor, but to no avail. The voice didn’t want to chat. It delivered its message, then hung up. That was it. But it was the only form of communication he ever had with the enemy, so he made a point of always being at his house in London for the whole day and rarely inviting anyone over, even when he came to better terms with Layla and her family. They would only ask questions.  
He began to make assumptions on what the caller was up to, going just by the sound of his voice. The call would always come from Vegas, no exceptions, and the voice would always be the same, male, soft, familiar. But there were small differences each year.  
Most of the time, the voice just sounded mean, happy to toy with him, sometimes it added an evil laugh for good measure. Sometimes it sounded neutral, sometimes angry or at least unhappy, sometimes like the caller had just fallen out of bed. Different time zones, Nimrod supposed, or just a lazy Ifrit’s lifestyle. Two or three times, the words had been so badly slurred that Nimrod had felt obliged to ask “Are you ok over there?”. But he was hung up on, even then. He had spent a few minutes being genuinely worried, but the call came back next year, indicating that the enemy had not died of alcoholic poisoning.  
Nimrod told himself that he was probably obsessing over unimportant detail here, but life proved him otherwise. He had once prevented an entire American city from being eradicated, going only by the alarming tone of the voice in his birthday message. No other Marid had quite seen to the bottom of that.  
What also differed was the background noise. Sometimes it was quiet, sometimes he could hear muffled conversation and the sound of glasses clinking, sometimes it sounded like he – the voice – the mystery voice – was calling him from a crowded casino. Once he had heard someone yell “HA! Royal flush!” in the background, and the voice – his voice – had yelled back “Oh FUCK it!” before hanging up on him. But there wasn’t much to be made from things like that.  
Then one year the call stopped coming.  
Nimrod sternly told himself not to mess himself about. Of course he had known where the call had come from. And of course he knew that it wasn’t going to ever come again. You couldn’t call anyone from a jade suit of armor. And it was better that way.  
So all in all there was no reason – no reason whatsoever – to hang around waiting for the phone to ring.   
It did ring once, and it did come from America, but it was New York, not Vegas, it was Layla congratulating.  
He went to bed early, feeling miserable.   
At a quarter to midnight, Groanin found him in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. He hadn’t found any sleep.  
“I do say, sir. I searched the whole house for you and find you down here?”  
“I couldn’t have troubled you at this unholy time of night with my need for tea. Please go back to bed, Groanin.”  
“I would, sir, but there’s a call for you from overseas.” Groanin raised an eyebrow. “Las Vegas.”  
Nimrod, who had just come to terms with never going through this routine again, all but ripped the phone from Groanin’s hand. “Yes?” he breathed into the receiver.

“I still wish you an unhappy birthday, Marid” the same old voice said, and Nimrod had known each and every nuance of that voice for such a long time that his memory automatically supplied him with the fitting expression on Iblis’ face as he had said it. Small smile, downcast eyes... yep, that was the one.  
Then there was a click and the phone was hung up.  
Nimrod stood frozen in his kitchen and just listened to his wildly beating heart for a few seconds. Then he said: “Groanin, I need to fly to Vegas.”  
“That’s a new one, sir” the butler remarked.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a good djinn in possession of a good survival instinct must watch his step in Vegas. But Nimrod felt like stepping down hard this time, so he just positioned himself in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard and waited for Ifrit activity.   
He didn’t have to wait more than half an hour until a young djinn approached him. He was the spitting image of Iblis, only younger – it took a close look to spot small differences such as the haircut, the lack of beard, a slightly more crooked nose. The young man also lacked the pinstriped suit that Nimrod had rarely seen Iblis without; he was wearing a simple black silk shirt, dress pants and no tie.   
“You’re Nimrod, right? Nimrod Godwin? I thought you’d show up around now.” The Ifrit’s stance was casual. He stayed a safe distance to Nimrod, but he did not attack.  
“Odair Teer” he now introduced himself. “And I’ll not harm you today.”  
“I’d like to see you try” Nimrod thought. “You’re Iblis’ son, right?”  
“Firstborn” Odair nodded.  
“Oh, so you’re soon to be reckoned with.”  
Odair’s face said “Huh?”  
“You’re next in line for the Ifrit, aren’t you?” Nimrod clarified.  
Odair scrunched up his face in what looked like distaste. “Probably” he said. “My brothers and I are currently squabbling over who doesn’t get to do it. Not very surprisingly, nobody wants Dad’s job. We all know where it brought him.”  
Nimrod realized that the Ifrit’s black attire probably meant he was in mourning. He cleared his throat. “Hmm. It might sound strange coming from me, but I’m sorry for your loss.”  
His opposite shrugged.   
“I’m here because – “  
“I know what you’re here for.” Odair took a cellphone out of his pocket. “My brothers and I are in the process of going through Dad’s stuff. This is his private phone. And I mean private. No business stuff on here. But you know what is on here?”  
“I... have a good guess” Nimrod said.  
“Yep, your little message. He set this phone to send this voicemail to you every year, same date, same time.”  
“By George” Nimrod whispered.  
“Indeed” Odair said tiredly and ran a hand through his hair. For a second he looked remarkably like his father. “We – that is all the Ifritsons – are of the opinion that Dad lost it. He just kept raising the bar on himself until... an enantiodromia, holy shit, what was he thinking? That’s why we didn’t help – we just stole the jade. Only Rudyard helped, but he – well, he was just a stupid kid. Now look where they both ended up.” He sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t quite gotten a grip on everything, I’m afraid.”   
He raised the cellphone. “Do you want this? We’ve erased all classified stuff.” He tossed it to Nimrod, and Nimrod caught it.   
“Now get the hell out of town, Marid. Truce is over.”  
“Farewell, Odair” Nimrod said to the Ifrit’s retreating back.

Back at home, Nimrod invested a day in flicking through messages Iblis had written to his sons and ex-wives and a small but significant amount of random drunk texts. He found nothing of any relevance to the Marid. Iblis had kept business and private affairs strictly separated, or his sons had been very thorough in erasing the important stuff. Odair wanted him to see something, and it was not Ifrit affairs. The background picture showed Iblis and all his sons, a great big bunch of evil, rows of pearly white front teeth smiling into the camera.  
He found his birthday message and listened again. Small smile, a little sadish, and downcast eyes. Iblis had known or at least suspected that he wasn’t going to get out of the whole Xian business alive, and he had made it a priority to tape this message.   
Not even death could stop Iblis from wishing Nimrod an unhappy birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was incredibly corny and probably OOC, but I felt like it was just the kind of ridiculous thing Iblis “the true evul biatch” would do. Or whatever what do I know.


	3. Tammuz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For something I originally uploaded drunk and sick to my stomach in the middle of the night after my birthday party, this story is…surprisingly okay. It’s the one about the Tammuz thing.

Jamie was scared. Even though his family had told him not to be, he felt like he had every reason to.  
He was alone in the desert, and it was getting dark. All kinds of creepy insects and stuff would probably soon emerge from the sand. He had seen a documentary on deserts once and knew that that was exactly what happened here at night. It was also getting cold. But the scariest thing was that he was all alone. Literally nobody anywhere near. If anything dangerous happened out here, there was nobody who could help him until morning. Until his family came back.  
What had they been thinking anyway? The equipment they had left him with was the most useless stuff ever. The sleeping bag was the high end of things, but the antique lamp he had been given, while looking very djinn-like, gave no light at all. And what was he even supposed to do with the pencil, notebook and dictionary? On Jamie’s list of survival tools for a night in the desert, a dictionary made no appearance at all.   
He didn’t see how spending a night in this absolute dump in pants-wetting fear was going to magically switch on his djinn powers by morning. But it had worked for his three older brothers, so he supposed something was going to have to happen.  
He waited around for about an hour, but nothing supernatural occurred. He just suddenly remembered every horror story he had ever heard, until he was sure there were desert zombies or whatever creeping behind every dune.  
I could really use djinn powers right now, he thought, or better yet, a full-grown djinn to pop up and get me out of here.  
His look fell on the old lamp. Wait... a... minute. What if...?  
Just to make sure he had tried everything, he picked the lamp up and rubbed it.  
Bingo, the young Ifrit thought as a cloud of dark smoke built up in the air, soon taking on a human-shaped form. A few seconds later, another djinn was giving Jamie company.  
“Wow, took you long enough” the guy, who was a complete stranger to Jamie, said. “So, you’re... Jamie Al-Fayyit, right? That’s a pretty hideous name, you know that?”  
Jamie, awestruck, nodded.  
“Well, anyway, hi there. I’m Iblis, tribal leader, bla bla, you’ve probably heard stories.”  
“A shit-ton of them, sir” Jamie said respectfully. He couldn’t even voice his astonishment. Iblis motherfucking Teer, holy shit. It was almost like meeting Satan.  
“Expect a lot of them to be made up” Iblis replied.   
“So... the one with San Francisco and that earthquake, sir...?”  
“Oh, that one’s true.”  
“And the one about the volcano on that island?”  
“That wasn’t me, that was my father. His name was also Iblis, so whoever was telling the story might have gotten us confused.”  
“But the one in Cairo with that belly-dancer...?  
“You mean my ex-wife?”  
“And the one in Vegas with the stripper and the sticky tape and the salad prongs?” Jamie had heard this particular story while eavesdropping on his older brothers. Many parts of it would only begin to make sense to him years later.  
“Um, I’m pretty sure I don’t even want to know. It’s most certainly made up; I just don’t do prostitutes in Vegas. I’m not too keen on herpes. Anyway” the evil djinn went on. “Tonight is not about exchanging gruesome stories about strippers and whatnot. I am here tonight to tell you how the djinn came to be.”  
“That’s... pretty kickass, sir, but how exactly will that help me gain my djinn powers?”  
“Yeah, we’ll get to that one too, Jamie Al-Fayyit... seriously, what were your parents even thinking...”  
“I dunno, sir, what were your parents thinking?”  
“Ah... what?”  
“As we’ve already established, I’ve heard stories about you” Jamie went on bravely. “I know what Iblis means. And...seriously, who names their son source of despair? Were you an obnoxiously loud baby or something?”  
“Way to press your luck, young djinn” Iblis said. “Actually, the name is inherited, but that’s beside point. I’m here to tell you the djinn stuff, and I’ll do that now, so listen up and I mean listen because that stuff’s really important. Cigarette?”  
Jamie, who had never smoked before, accepted the cigarette with shaky fingers.  
“Okay. So. In the beginning. Angels from light, humans from clay, djinn from fire. You may have already heard some of this.”  
Jamie nodded again.  
“Well, someday or other for some obnoxious reason there was this great decision thingy. Angels, mundanes and djinn were forced to choose good or evil. Don’t ask me why that was or who made them do that, I personally think the Marid made that story up to feel nice and righteous about themselves, but whatever. The angels chose mostly good, the mundanes mostly evil. The angels who turned to evil are called demons; you just hope you never meet one of those, I’m a picnic compared to them. The djinn, however, separated into six tribes. The ones who chose good were the Marid, the Jinn and the Jann. Don’t be too worried about them though, they’re just uptight asses who won’t let anyone have any fun. The other three were the Ifrit, the Ghul and the Shaitan. The Ifrit, that’s us, that’s our big happy slightly dysfunctional family. The others are buddies. Any questions so far?”  
“So... I’m evil? We’re all evil?”  
“Sort of yes. Sorry to break that to you, but yes, we’re all kind of evil.”  
“But I don’t feel... um... evil. I mean I don’t feel like murdering someone or something.”  
“So how do you feel?”  
“I dunno, sir. Just like myself I guess.”  
“That’s good then. Really! I know it’s confusing at first. You don’t feel like a bad person. You don’t even want to be a bad person. But the whole being evil thing has its upsides. Just think of it as being free. You can do anything you’d like. You’re not burdened by morale, conscience or the expectations of society. If some guy bugs you and you want to turn him into a cockroach, do. If you don’t feel like doing anything, don’t. We don’t have to constantly worry about upholding the balance of happiness and rainbow sparkles in the world or whatever. We’re so free, it’s almost anarchy. Just please try not to defy me, I get grouchy when you do that.”  
“That... doesn’t sound too bad, sir. Only... how do I turn guys into cockroaches?”  
Iblis spent the rest of the night explaining to Jamie how he should use his djinn powers, and helping him pick a focus word. As it began to dawn, the young djinn had chosen one.  
“I think your parents ought to be back in a few hours. They’ll show you what you can do with that shiny new focus word of yours. By the way, did they or anyone else ever test your ability to influence luck?”  
“I don’t think so. How do you do that?”  
“It’s real simple. Here, take these.” Iblis produced five dices out of nowhere and placed them in Jamie’s hand. “Now throw.”  
Jamie threw. He scored two ones, two threes and a four.  
“Oh. Looks like you’re not very lucky right now.”  
Jamie stared miserably down at his score. “Will...that be a lot of trouble?”  
“Naah, it’s cool. Welcome to the Ifrit.”  
“Did you do that too, as a kid I mean?”  
“Yep. “  
“What did you get?”  
“All sixes.”  
“That’s fantastic, isn’t it?”  
“The rule of the game was to score as many ones as possible.”  
“Oh...”  
The most evil djinn in the world grinned at Jamie. “As I said... welcome to the Ifrit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was basically Iblis explaining to a kid what evil is. There’s much more to follow on that topic. I hope you’re enjoying this so far, and if you do, consider gracing me with a comment? Um…please?


	4. Ohana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my honeys! This here is kind of a domestic Iblis chapter. I personally can never have too much domestic Iblis.  
> Random fun fact: the wiki says Iblis and Jenny Sachertorte used to be married. The wiki is wrong.  
> Random fun fact number two: In the German translation, which I have read (due to being German), the Sachertorte family had their name changed to “Sacstroker”. Isn’t that weird? It’s probably because a Sachertorte is a popular cake dish over here.

“Daddy? Daddy, wake up.”  
“Whuh?” Iblis asked, sitting up in bed. For a moment, he experienced that weird little waking-up-existential-crisis where one couldn’t remember who, what and where he was. But after a second he recognized himself, his bed, his apartment and the dark-haired child at his bedside prodding him awake.  
“What is it, Jonny?”  
“Jared says pancakes are ready.”  
“Awesome. Tell your brother I’ll be up in a few.”  
“Jared also says you’ll need to check on Rudyard.”  
“Oh for fu- for he- for something’s sake” Iblis muttered, reminding himself not to curse in front of his eight-year-old child.  
As he got up – way before noon – he thought about the lazy-Ifrit-cliché that was commonplace among the good tribes. It was also true. He in particular, however, spent a lot less days on his back than he’d like to.  
First things first, he went to check on his youngest son. As he had expected, Rudyard needed to be cleaned up. This was less of a problem than one might think; Iblis had raised a lot of sons, he could by now change a diaper with his eyes closed. Never ever had he employed a nanny for his sons. He didn’t trust servants with his children, or with anything for that matter.  
Rudyard’s mother was not here. In fact, she had very unceremoniously dumped the infant at Iblis’ door with a note attached, telling him never to contact or try to find her ever. Needless to say, they had not parted on good terms.  
Iblis didn’t like to think about it.  
He had pancakes with his sons, because evil people neglect their children was another cliché, and he’d be damned if he’d let his life be permeated by clichés that stuck around like toxic waste. He made time for his kids. You do bad things, and you do them well, but you’re not an un-person for it.  
He was feeding Rudyard when the phone rang. Rudyard immediately began to screech at the noise.  
“Jared, could you take this!” Iblis called over to his second-eldest, while he himself cradled Rudyard in his arms and shushed him down.  
Jared Teer, twenty-something years old and currently crashing at his father’s place because he had recently run into some Marid-shaped trouble and needed to keep his head down for a while, answered the phone.  
“For you, dad” he said after briefly listening to the person calling.  
“Okay, give” Iblis answered and extended his free hand, leaning Rudyard against his chest with the other.  
Jared handed the phone over, and Iblis said “What is it?” into the receiver.  
“Iblis? Hello” a woman’s voice answered. “This is Tenebrae Williams. I’m calling about my daughter Michelle.”  
“Hi Ten, how you doin’? What about her?” Iblis replied.  
“Well, she’s just had her wisdom teeth extracted, and she’ll be having her Tammuz soon. Could you maybe-“  
“Wow, already? How old’s she now, twelve? When I last saw you guys, she was, what, five?”  
“Six. Time passes so fast ” the Ifrit woman said with a smile in her voice. “How are yours?”  
“Uh, you know, the usual. Rudyard’s learning to crawl already.”  
“He must be a lot of work. Especially since his mother...”  
“Right. About your daughter’s Tammuz. Are you guys planning on doing it here?”  
“Actually, we’re at our place in Cairo right now. If it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could come over, that would be great.”  
“Well, I’d have to take Rudyard with me. I’ll not risk leaving him with his brothers. But apart from that, it’s no trouble at all. I’ve got nothing going on this week. Let’s make it Friday, shall we?”  
“Friday is great, thank you so much.”  
“It’s ok. Oh hey, I think someone else is trying to call me. I’ll hang up now, ok, see you.”  
“See you.”  
He hung up and took the other call. It was his oldest son Odair, who he had recently set up with the task of keeping an eye on the enemy.  
“Hello dad.”  
“Hello son. Any news about the Marid?”  
“I dunno, dad, depends. Do you mean your special Marid, or just the Marid tribe in general?”  
“I have no idea what you’re implying, there is no ‘special’ Marid” Iblis swiftly replied.  
“I dunno” Odair repeated. “It just seems like you care a bit more for Nimrod Godwin-“  
“Shut your mouth, there’s nonsense coming out. What did you call me for?”  
“Well, guess who just popped out a perfectly healthy little son. If your guess is Jenny Sachertorte, then you’re right. Bravo, dad. I salute you.”  
“Fuck. Just what I needed right now.” He paused for a moment. “What’s the boy’s name?”  
“Dybbuk.”  
“That’s... quite a name. So, do I have to expect anything? Vindictum? Lawsuit?”  
“I don’t think so. The husband won’t do anything, that’s for sure. Too much of a coward.”  
“Alright. Thanks for telling me. Bye.”  
Ignoring Odair’s protest, Iblis hung up. He looked down at Rudyard, who had fallen asleep by now, and thought ugh, great. Another son. A half-and-half. That’s bound to bring trouble.  
In the living room, Jared and Jonathon were curled up on the couch watching a cartoon. Iblis himself abhorred television, but he didn’t forbid his children to watch it. They had limited TV-hours each day, and certain programs they were not allowed to watch until they were a certain age, but that was it. As he walked by, the Hawaiian cartoon-girl on the screen placed a flower crown on the head of a blue... creature...thing. “Ohana means family” she said. “And family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”  
Iblis had a lopsided smile on this.

He went into the bedroom to place Rudyard in his crib. He then paused in front of his drinks cabinet, that had been located here so his kids wouldn’t happen upon it and contained, among other things, a truly excellent bottle of Scotch waiting for a moment just like this. Yes, sure, drinking was a vice, but he’d be damned if he-  
“Daddy?”  
He turned around nonchalantly, acting before the world and his eight-year-old son that he hadn’t just contemplated getting wasted with all his responsibilities and his kids present.  
“Yes, Jonny?”  
“I have... I have a question.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Daddy, are you a superhero?”  
“A superhero?” Iblis said, smiling, while his mind went okay what, oh no, oh please.  
“Only ‘cause, y’know, yesterday at dinner? You just snipped your fingers and the dishes cleaned themselves. And when I scraped my knee last week you blew on it and it just healed. So... do you have superpowers? Like Superman or something?”  
“Come here.” Iblis sat down on his bed with his son. “Jonathon, I’m not a superhero. I’m a djinn. As are you, and your brothers, by the way. And I’ll never, ever be like Superman. I’m actually more like... he Joker?”  
“I don’t get it. The Joker is evil and has no powers at all.”  
“You’ll get it when you’re older, promise. When you get your djinn powers.”  
“When’ll that be?”  
“Um, let’s see, you’re eight now... should be another four years.”  
“Another four years?! But I want my superpowers now!”  
“They’re djinn powers, not superpowers, and there’s nothing I can do to speed things up. It’s just the natural process of growing up. Sorry, but you’ll just have to be patient.”  
Jonathon pouted.  
Iblis opened the window and lit himself a cigarette.  
A Superhero. Tsk.  
He had done this a lot of times, with all his sons, and whenever an Ifrit child had their Tammuz, but that didn’t make it any easier. He tried to imagine the other side of things, the leaders of the good tribes telling their children You’re a djinn now, welcome to heroically fighting evil! And the kids just being like Yaaay! Meanwhile, he had to tell young Ifrit that their parents were not the heroes they had taken them for, and that they themselves could never be heroes either, no matter how much they might wish for it, because that was just how things were. And he thought about how he had to do it again within this week when that girl Michelle had her Tammuz, and he could just about see the disappointment on her face, and his mood was thoroughly ruined.


	5. Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short fluffy thing about Nimrod being kind to animals and how Iblis got the...most unusual pets he has in book 3. This is v short, but oh well. Later chapters will be longer. I guarantee it.   
> This was about the time I started getting comments for this fic back on ff.net...so...if you'd like to leave one, there's no one holding you back... *sad puppy eyes*

Nimrod had a habit with strays.  
Every now and again he would happen upon a stray dog or cat while walking the streets of London, and he’d never be able to resist their wistful looks. This time, as he was taking a leisurely evening walk, it was a puppy.  
“Oh dear” he sighed as something whined at him from an alleyway. He bent down and pet the tiny creature for a minute, wiping his hand on the nearest wall as he got up. “I’m afraid I don’t have any treats for you” he said as the dog pushed its wet little nose into his hand expectantly. Of course he could have easily provided something for the puppy to eat, what with being a djinn and all, but he knew in his heart that if he wanted to provide every stray in London with treats, he would run out of powers pretty soon. So he just walked on.  
Except that, after a few steps, he turned around to see that the dog was following him.  
“Oh, please leave” he addressed it again, as if it could possibly understand. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”  
The dog made no intention of leaving. Instead it ran up to him and sniffed his leg excitedly.  
“None of that please. Shoo” Nimrod said and tried to walk on. The puppy went on pursuing.  
“Look, I can’t adopt you. I really can’t. Find someone else.”   
It was true. Nimrod owned an old house full of precious antiques and ancient carpets. Not the ideal environment for a dog. A dog would break stuff and shed hair on stuff and do other, nastier business on stuff, and Nimrod was, in those respects, a bit of a germaphobe. He liked his house nice and clean. And not to think of Groanin. The man would be absolutely appalled.   
But still, the poor thing was so pitifully thin, and its fur was matted with dirt and definitely needed to be taken care of, and it looked at him with those big, soulful eyes and ugh...  
“Alright, let’s see what I can do” he said, scooping the puppy up in his arms. It happily wagged its tail and tried to lick his face. “You’re still not going to my house, though.” Thank goodness he knew a decent animal shelter just down the road.  
“Oh, Mr. Godwin, you again” the lady at the shelter welcomed him with a smile. “Found another one?”  
“Yes, Mrs. Harrow, another orphan of the storm” Nimrod replied, setting the puppy down on the counter.  
“We’ll do our best to find him a home. Won’t we, little buddy?”   
Nimrod could only admire humans who truly liked being good to animals.  
As he left the room, he heard Mrs. Harrow say to her colleague: “Y’know, I came to like that guy. Bit of an oddball, that one, but he drops by every other week with another stray. Very kind.”  
As he came home, Groanin greeted him with: “You’ve got fur all over your suit, sir. Another stray?”  
“Maybe” Nimrod replied.

Meanwhile, far away from that incident, another djinn whom you could well call Nimrod’s complete negative (Nimrod inverted, his nemesis, his counterpart) was also taking a walk through a city that he pretty much owned, and that he found extremely well.  
Iblis liked Las Vegas. He liked the casinos and the neon lights and the exciting crime and how the city never stopped, never slept, but was active day and night. True, the imitated palaces and pyramids were a bit kitschy (alright, stark kitschy), but oh well. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all his. It was a city for Ifrit, for him, tailored to his every need. Iblis loved Las Vegas, and Las Vegas loved him back. Still, you had to tread with care here... literally, Iblis thought as his foot met an obstacle which, at glancing down, turned out to be a junkie lying in a gutter. About five rats were scurrying around the guy, probably waiting around in case he died soon.  
“Ew, icky mundane” the Ifrit muttered in disgust and shooed the rats off with a few flicks of his walking cane.  
One rat, however, stayed. Completely unafraid, the little creature looked up at the djinn and wrinkled its little nose. For a moment they just stared at each other, rat and snake, completely transfixed.  
“Shove off” Iblis then said, hitting the thing with his cane. It didn’t shove off, though. The situation was almost comically similar to Nimrod’s, as Iblis turned back after walking a few steps, only to see the rat determinately following him through the gutter by the sidewalk.  
“What the actual fuck” Iblis said to himself, then decided to dismiss it and go home. But after crossing a few streets, he had to realize that the damn thing was still keeping up.  
“Now, I know that rats are smart cookies” he addressed the tiny creature, “But you’re not being smart right now. What exactly do you think to gain by this?”  
The rat just sat on the sidewalk looking at the Ifrit. Of course it didn’t respond.   
“Look, I’ll not benefit you in any way. I don’t think you’re adorable. And tell you what, no one ever will. If you were a kitten or whatever, I’d understand, but you’re a rat. A child of the sewers. You’re not cute, you probably transmit horrible diseases (like everything in this place does), you’re literally a pest. You are life’s trash.”  
He gave the creature a kick and went his merry ways. Until, only a few blocks away from home, he heard a faint chirping sound behind him, like a bird or a... rat would make.  
He sighed and turned around. There it sat, looking at him.  
“You know what” Iblis said, went down on one knee and opened his hands.   
The black rat ran up to him and onto his palm, and he lifted it up and permitted it to sit in his jacket pocket. Then he got out his cellphone and dialed Rudyard’s number.  
“Rudyard, what do you think of rats?”  
“Um...? Can be cute, I guess?”  
“Do you want a pet one?”  
“Err...”  
“Good. For the record, you’ve now got a pet rat. Bye.”  
As he entered his busiest casino that also served as his headquarters, Palis the foot-fetishist (or whatever it was the guy had going on) greeted him with: “There’s a rat in your pocket, sir.”  
“Yeah so? I’m not weird. You are” Iblis replied.


	6. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this weird chapter, Iblis post-mortally atones for his crimes and Nimrod gains a guardian. I originally planned on making this a continuous series, but then I kinda lost interest in in.  
> But the books following book four get funnier when you go with the Guardian Demon AU, aka imagine Iblis and Rudyard floating around in the background all the time, keeping their respective wards safe.

Imagine Iblis dying a lone and gruesome death in his jade suit of armor. A sad thing to imagine alright, but this is not the end of things, for after his death, Iblis goes straight to Hell (Where else, right). On arriving there, he meets the devil, who briefs him on how things run down here. He says he prides himself on running an efficient realm of pure evil. He says he has a talent for recognizing competence. He says “You look like a man who can do a thing or two”. He says there’s two ways things can go now.   
Normally, he would send Iblis to purgatory with the other gazillions of lost souls to be punished for their sins for the rest of eternity. But there’s always a choice. He can “take the wings”, as Lucifer puts it, work under him as a minor demon. “We could use someone of your talent, someone with experience in the supernatural line of work. All future expenses covered, pretty good chances of promotion, and you get demon powers.”  
“Where’s the catch?” Iblis asks. “That sounds a bit too easy to me.”  
Of course there is a catch. The thing is, he still has a pretty impressive record of sins that he must still be punished for, “And working under me isn’t quite punishment, if I say so myself”. But he can work it off. He can make repayments, and Satan explains how.  
Iblis doesn’t want purgatory. It’s an offer he can’t refuse.  
There is always a choice.  
He is given a pair of wings, a badass flaming sword (because a demon needs a badass flaming sword) and set to work.

Nimrod begins to notice shortly after Iblis’s death. It’s just small things: He spots a familiar face in a crowd, or catches sight of someone in his peripheral vision, but as he looks, there’s no one there. Whenever minor accidents happen to him (he almost walks into something, he almost cuts his hand on a kitchen knife), he often almost hears someone sigh and snap their fingers. And sometimes, when he’s completely alone, he gets a feeling of being watched. Not in a creepy way. It’s more like –he assumes – a faithful believer might feel that their Holy Spirit slash deity is watching over them.  
He naturally never makes the connection.  
That is, until he runs into real danger. Namely, a lunatic mundane who bottled him up and now wants to exploit his powers for himself. One moment, the guy is blabbing his mouth at him, in the middle of telling him the details of his evil plan, typically inefficient villain, next moment he’s suddenly grabbing his chest, yelling “Oh God, my heart!” and pitching over, dead as a doornail. And just in that very particular moment, Nimrod feels a third presence in the room, apart from him and the very unlucky wannabe-villain. He turns around and catches a glimpse of a vaguely familiar silhouette, illuminated in an unearthly glow, and hears a vaguely familiar voice whisper: “Oops...”   
They make eye contact for about a second, then the presence is gone, vanished, as if it never existed.  
He wants to dismiss the whole thing as his imagination on an adrenaline rush, but as his adventures with the twins commence, the ghostly... whatever it is appears again, not doing anything really, just always being there when things get dangerous, and John and Philippa see it too.  
“Uncle Nimrod?” Philippa asks once. “What is this, um, thing that’s always by your side lately? You know, it looks like a person, always obscured by a strong light, and it seems to just... always have your back?”  
“I don’t know what it is or what it wants, Philippa” Nimrod answers. “But I’m relieved you see it too and I’m not just losing my mind. I’m pretty sure it’s not hostile. One of these days, I’m going to unveil it.”  
Philippa is right. It – Nimrod has no name for it – seems to be focused on always having his back. Whenever he uses up a lot of djinn powers at once, or just generally feels exhausted, something warm touches his back and he instantly feels refreshed – when he turns around, the area is surrounded by a vague general glowing, as if a strong source of light or warmth had just been located there, and sometimes he can hear a faint laugh fading on the breeze. It’s not the most pleasant kind of laughter, that’s for sure, it’s more like when someone pranks you and then laughs, see how stupid you look right now? On one of these occasions, Nimrod catches a black feather trundling through the air. Could be from some bird, he thinks. Or not.  
The revelation happens one day, when Nimrod is in danger again, on his ever relentless fight against evil, ambushed by three Shaitan. They have him cornered and, not unlike Tolkien’s three trolls, are bickering over who gets to kill the Marid.  
“Ugh, why don’t you let me have him? I’m the oldest, I go first.”  
“I saw him first, you two just followed me. He’s mine.”  
“No he’s mine.”  
“Mine!”  
“He is mine” says a voice, laced with all arrogance and hellfire of the world, and Nimrod knows in one great big rush of understanding that the thing – the good thing – the guardian thing is back. He also knows that voice. He just thought it long dead.  
Dressed in the same old impeccable suit, the same cold snake-like eyes as ever, only with two black, slender wings on his back, Iblis calmly steps in front of Nimrod and draws an impressively big sword. He flicks it casually against his thigh and it catches on fire.   
“He is mine” he repeats to the three. “I have worked my ass off to make his life hell when you little punks weren’t even around yet. He is my arch-enemy, I do the antagonizing here and you can go. Fuck. Off.” He bares his teeth to the three and snarls at them like some ferocious beast thing.   
The three Shaitan are definitely doing math in their head for a second, then, realizing they still outnumber them, they charge. With the speed and grace of an attacking cobra, winged-Iblis goes at them, bringing the flaming sword down upon the first one in a bright, wide arch.   
It cuts through the guy like a knife through butter, cuts him right in half, and as the other two take one look at their companion and run for it, Iblis raises the sword and says: “Wow. So that’s what this thing does.”  
He turns around, looks at Nimrod, does a little mock salute. “Marid.”   
Then he walks off, carelessly twirling the sword by his side, like he used to do with his walking cane back in the days.   
Or at least he plans to do that. He never gets far, as Nimrod catches up with him, spins him around, grabs the front of his shirt and lifts him a few inches off the ground, wings and all.  
“What are you doing here?!”  
“Saving your ass” Iblis replies, like that was something he always did.  
“Why aren’t you dead?!”  
“Wow, rude. Trick question, Marid: You are holding me up by the chest. Do you feel any heartbeat on me? Probably no. I am dead, you know.”  
“But...? The wings... and the protecting me... Iblis, how are you an angel?”  
Iblis snorts. “An angel. Me. You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you? I’m a demon. Black feathers.”  
“Oh. But I thought dead djinn had no way of coming back?”  
Iblis shrugs. “I thought so too. Surprise there.”  
“That still doesn’t explain you being here.”  
“Oh, that. Well, this is where it gets awkward.” Iblis fidgets a bit, like he’s really embarrassed. “You see, some of us evil dead souls get a kind of get-out-of-jail-free-card. I made a deal with the devil because I didn’t want to spend eternity in purgatory for my sins. So I took the wings, became one of Satan’s errand boys. It’s surprisingly not half bad down there. Thing is, I’ve still got to make amends for all the bad stuff I did in life. I basically do that by... watching you.”  
“I can’t believe this. You’re my guardian angel now?”  
“Guardian demon, Nimrod. A lot of what the mundanes call ‘guardian angels’ is actually people like me. People who have dues to pay. The real angels can’t really be bothered with playing guardian for ordinary folks. They’re busy with saints and whatnot.”  
“Guardian demon. Alright. And you’ll...um, you’ll... be around?”  
“If you want me to.”  
Nimrod takes a long look at his late once-greatest-enemy. Then he nods.

From this day forth, Nimrod can always rely on his demon to be there when there’s danger.  
Even when he comes down with the flu in the fall, his demon sticks around, warming him with his hellfire (dead people can’t catch diseases) and reading Shakespeare's sonnets to him until they both fall asleep. When Groanin enters the room next morning and finds a creature with the face of a dead enemy and raven-like wings wrapped around his master’s sleeping form, he grabs a fireplace poker and tries to poke the gruesome thing off the bed. Nimrod wakes up to them dueling each other, poker vs. flaming sword, all over the room and has to get up to stop the fight, even though he feels most unwell. The two of them immediately unite and usher him back into bed.

Only when they go up against evil Dybbuk, Nimrod catches sight of Iblis standing by the side, eyes lowered and hands raised apologetically. He mouths the words No and Sorry and disappears from sight.

Meanwhile, in New York, Philippa Gaunt crosses a road. Deep in thought, she doesn’t notice an SUV that is about to hit her, until someone grabs her and pulls her out of harm’s way – it’s a close call.  
As she turns around, as relieved as she is shocked, to thank her savior, she’s met with the sight of none other than Rudyard Teer with a pair of black wings on his back, casting an insecure half-smile at her.  
“Hi” he says.  
“Rudyard?!” Philippa exclaims. “Aren’t you supposed to be trapped in a jade suit? What’s with the wings? And did you just save my life?!”  
“Umm, yeah” Rudyard replies self-consciously, his hand going up to scratch the back of his head. “I guess there’s something I have to explain to you.”


	7. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-canon fluff. Tiny! John and Philippa are afraid of a monster in their room. So is tiny Rudyard. See how their respective parents handle it.

“Mom, there’s a monster under my bed.”  
It was midnight. Layla Gaunt looked down at five-year-old Philippa who was standing by her bedside and had just woke her up. On the other half of the bed, her husband Edward hadn’t noticed any of the commotion and continued sleeping peacefully.  
“Phil, please. There are no monsters. Try to go back to sleep, alright?”  
“John sees it too.”  
“Oh dear. Did you wake your brother up over this?”  
Philippa pouted. “He woke me up. Mom, can you please go check it out? We’re really a bit scared.”  
Yawning, Layla got up and went with Philippa to the twins’ room. They would get separate rooms soon, but as long as they were young, their parents saw no harm in letting them sleep together. Especially as they, being twins and all, were so very close that they often thought and even dreamed the same things – which probably explained both of them seeing the same scary monster.  
Layla armed herself with a flashlight and, as the twins demanded, checked both their beds, the closet, and every other dark corner they could think of. If there had ever been any monsters, they fled from Layla’s light.  
“All done” she said. “No monsters anywhere.” She gave the twins a radiant smile. “Now you can sleep again, right?”  
Her children gave her skeptical looks. “It will return as soon as the light is off” John said.   
“Grownups can’t see it, only kids” Philippa added.  
“We’re still scared” John concluded.  
“Hmmm” Layla said. Then she had an idea. “Wait here a moment, will you? I’ll leave the light on.”  
She went to her dressing room and fished an old necklace from her jewelry case. It was made of polished wooden beads and a pendant of ivory with engraved mystical symbols. It was a good-luck-charm and had been a present to her from an old Eremite lady from India, but that was long ago. On her way back to the kids’ room, she collected a teddy bear that they had been playing with that day, and put the charm on it.  
She noted that John seemed a little more panicky than Philippa, so she put the bear in his bed. “Look, kids. I brought you someone to protect you from the monster.”  
“My teddy?” Philippa asked.  
“Not just that. See what the teddy is wearing? This is an Indian charm that brings good luck. It also repels monsters. So when you go back to sleep, John, and the monster comes back, this will protect you and your sister.”  
“Really, Mom?”  
“Promised. Are you still scared now?”  
“No Mom, thank you” John said, smiling.

 

Another night, not too much time apart from that one. Rudyard Teer, recently turned six, peeked into his father’s bedroom. Iblis was alone in there, and sleeping, impossibly sprawled and tangled with the blanket, managing somehow to occupy a whole king-sized bed all by himself.  
Rudyard padded up to the bed and gave a few prods where he suspected his father’s shoulder to be.  
Now Iblis was a fast sleeper; when he was asleep he was ASLEEP, so it took a lot of prodding for him to come to life. He blinked at Rudyard a few times and then not very gracefully flopped back into the sheets.  
“Wha’sit, Rudyard?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow on his face.  
“Daddy, can I sleep with you tonight?”  
“Why.”  
“There’s a monster.”  
Iblis raised his head. “A monster.”  
“It’s in my closet. It’s scary.”  
“You’ve prob’ly imagined it, go back to sleep.”  
“No, daddy, it’s really there and it scares me!” Rudyard wailed, close to tears.  
“Oh for the love of-“ Iblis muttered and got up. “I’ll go check it out.”  
He went with Rudyard to his room, mildly annoyed to be deprived of his sleep. But as he opened his son’s closet and saw what was in there, mild annoyance turned to white-hot rage, and the next thing he knew was he’d grabbed the skinny, faceless, tentacled creature, punched it in the non-face, thrown it on the ground and was now kicking the hell out of it. It’s limbs were so slender and fragile that they didn’t stand much of a chance against pure, unleashed Ifrit-rage.   
“Leave me alone!” the thing, despite not having a mouth, somehow screamed. “How can you even see me? I’m visible only to children!”  
“I’m a djinn, you fucking ugly piece of trash!” Iblis yelled back and brought his heel down on the creature’s back. He felt an immense satisfaction as he heard something crackle in there. Grinning manically, he grabbed a handful of the black tentacles that were protruding from the closet monster’s back, twisted them around and ripped them right off. There was a lot of blood and the creature gave a blood-curdling scream of pain and anguish. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it hurts, I think I broke two ribs, oh God, please” it sobbed.  
“There’s the door” Iblis snarled, pointing there. “Get the hell out of here and never, never molest my kids again, you got it? If I catch you here one more time, I swear to God I’ll not stop at anything.”  
“I’ll never come here again, I’ll leave you alone, promise!” it cried and got the hell out of there, but not before Iblis threw its own ripped-off tentacles at its retreating back.  
Then he stood there panting, with blood on his hands and more blood splashed all over his pajamas and even some of it on his face. As the bright-white nuclear plant waves of aggression disappeared from before his eyes, he saw that Rudyard, in the meantime, had gotten all of his brothers. They were all sitting together on the bed and watched him, completely enraptured.  
“That was awesome, Dad” said Rudyard.  
From this day forth, whenever Rudyard was scared of monsters, he would just slip into his father’s bed without much fuss. When you’re afraid of something evil, it is sometimes comforting to know that you’ve got a far greater evil on your side to kick the former one’s ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I get a woohoo for the Slenderman cameo!? Actually you don't have to woohoo, but a comment would be nice...  
> Back in the days when my chapters were very short...now they're always 3000 slightly unnecessary words...


	8. Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m playing with the soulmates AU idea – I know the concept is not quite new, but I wanted to try it out with the CotL universe. So, every djinn has their soulmate’s name tattooed on their wrist, right. But the system is not perfect, it sometimes makes for problems. I hope you enjoy! Chapters are slowly getting longer...

There are many things in which djinn differ from the mundanes. Most importantly, djinn powers, and the fact that djinn are made of fire. Also, every djinn is born with the name of a person on their wrist, the person who will once become their soul mate. Well, I say every djinn. It is not uncommon for a djinn child to be born with an empty wrist. Some of these children will experience a name appearing on their skin as they grow older, some have to wait for many years, and some stay soulmate-less for their whole lives. The ones who have a full name and gemetrian name on their wrists from the start are thought to be extremely blessed. It is a good omen, such is believed, for a pure, open, honest relationship with their soulmate once they meet. 

Nimrod is born with an empty wrist, but a name appears when he’s five years old. However, there is something peculiar about that name.

He is super excited when the first traces of ink start appearing, and can’t wait for it to form a name. One morning he wakes up with it fully developed, and immediately wakes his mother to read it to him. Ayesha Godwin takes a look at his wrist and is startled. They have a long talk, and Nimrod has to promise his mother to not tell the name to anyone. The only other person who gets to see it is the older sister Layla. 

He shows it to her one night. It is storming outside, and he climbed into bed with her because he’s a little afraid. They have a light, and Layla is reading out from a book of fairytales, until she suddenly says: “You wanna see something odd?”  
“What?” Nimrod asks.  
Layla rolls up the sleeve of her nightgown. “Here, look. My tattoo formed a month ago. Isn’t is quaint? There’s no ancient name there at all. It just says ‘Edward Gaunt’.”  
“Maybe it’ll just come later. Or maybe he is no djinn.”  
Layla looks a bit worried. “But just think he was a mundane! He wouldn’t have my name at all, would he? I don’t know if I like that.”  
“When you meet him, you’ll like him alright” Nimrod tries to comfort her. “Do you want to see something even more odd?”  
“What?”  
He rolls up the sleeve of his firetruck-red pajamas and shows her his name.   
“Is that a male name?” she asks.   
“Yes, it is. Mother said this can be possible. Apparently, soulmates don’t have to be all romantic. It’s just someone your soul is very closely connected to.”  
“But Iblis Teer? I’ve heard of the Teer family. They’re bad djinn... very, very bad djinn.”  
“Mother said so too. That’s why we mustn’t tell anyone. Maybe... there was a mistake, or...” He falters; he doesn’t know.

He grows up, many things happen. One of them is Iblis. He is indeed a bad djinn, the worst, maybe. Nimrod knows he has to fight him, and he does. Whenever they meet, he tries very hard to not sneak glances at the man’s wrist. It’s futile, anyway, as Iblis is always, always long-sleeved. As is Nimrod, by the way. They have a lot in common. Maybe, in a different world, they could have been friends.  
One day Layla calls him from a New York payphone, sobbing and laughing into the receiver. She has just met her Edward Gaunt.   
“I never would have thought” she says. “He’s a little mundane investment banker! Can you imagine? But, Nimrod, he’s wonderful, he’s truly kind-hearted, and generous, and... oh God, I hope he likes me!”  
Nimrod assures her that she’s a beautiful, intelligent, charming, perfect woman and there’s no reason whatsoever for her mundane investment banker to not like her just as much as she apparently likes him.  
A year after that, Nimrod is invited to their wedding.  
The twins are born, both without names on their wrists. Maybe it’s because they have a mundane father. Maybe the names will come up later, and then Layla will have a lot of explaining to do.  
Meanwhile, Nimrod’s own marriage has gone downhill. His wife, Alexandra, is a proud woman, and even though she does like him, she can’t bear to live with not being the one written on Nimrod’s arm, and who is written there instead disturbs her even more.

 

Iblis is born with a name, but it is not right. His father makes that very clear. He orders him to always, always cover it up and never show it to anyone. He doesn’t give any reasons for that, doesn’t even want his son to learn to read in order to keep him from knowing the truth. Iblis teaches himself to in the family library behind his father’s back. Only then he gets to know what is so wrong with him. But he never talks about it. His father will beat him if he brings it up. His father will beat him and his mother for anything really. Iblis spends his childhood enduring, and waiting, and when he gets his djinn powers and they become greater, far greater than his father’s, he frees himself of him. But he always covers his wrist, out of habit, and when asked will say that he has no soulmate, that there’s just blank skin there, and he doesn’t want people to look at that.  
His sons are all born blank or with nice, unproblematic Ifrit names, and Iblis is secretly relieved every time. Maybe, he thinks, this family’s line of bad luck has ended with him.

 

Flash forward to the house of the French ambassador in Cairo, where Iblis has just bottled up the twins. It’s a moment of triumph, his plan has succeeded. Except that Nimrod suddenly materializes out of the computer.   
“Good day, Iblis” he greets.  
Iblis calculates his chances. He has to admit that Nimrod has chosen the perfect moment to screw him over. He’s entirely exhausted from just binding the twins, and he can also feel all that Brandy from earlier kicking in. He’s in no condition to fight.  
“Ah, shit” he concludes.  
Nimrod takes the little perfume flask, that the twins brought, from the table and calmly strides towards him. “One last question, Iblis, before I do you in” he says. “Back when you locked me up in that tomb. How did you find out my gemetrian name?”  
“Oh, that was easy-peasy” Iblis smirks. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it. Maybe it’s the Brandy. Maybe it’s the fact that he just lost everything.   
Nimrod watches, not sure what is coming, as the Ifrit opens the cufflink on his right arm. Like the expert poker player he is, he shows Nimrod the palm and back of his hand to indicate he has nothing up his sleeve. His wrist is covered with a length of cloth that looks like it’s been on there for years. The knot that closes it is so tight that Iblis has to use his teeth to remove it. Once he’s done that, he raises his right hand, his right wrist that bears both Nimrod’s common and ancient name, an almost pained expression on his face.  
Both Nimrod’s hands fly up to cover his mouth as he feels tears welling up in his eyes. The little perfume flask falls down and shatters into a thousand pieces. “Oh God” he chokes past his fingers. “Oh God, you too.”  
“What...what?”  
Nimrod shows Iblis his own wrist, with Iblis’s name on it, and watches the Ifrit’s eyes widen. They both can’t believe it, they match, for goodness’ sake, they found each other... and they have a problem now.  
“What now?” Nimrod asks.  
Iblis shakes his head. “Don’t ask me, Marid, I’m no smarter than you.”  
“Can I touch it?” Nimrod says timidly.  
Iblis gives him a dubious look, but then extends his hand. Nimrod takes it, retraces the writing that he is familiar with, because it’s the font he signs all his letters in. Then he looks up at Iblis, who stares back, his face unreadable.  
“Can I hug you?” Nimrod asks.  
“Whatever” Iblis replies in a kind of shocked whisper, and Nimrod pulls him into a close embrace. Iblis doesn’t hug him back, but he doesn’t try to kill him either, which Nimrod takes as a positive sign. And as he tilts his head and makes their lips meet, he doesn’t ask for permission anymore. Iblis smells like snakes and Brandy, and he tastes horrible (he just threw up a live mouse, for God’s sake) but somehow, this is still one of the best moments in Nimrod’s life.   
Eventually Iblis pulls away. “Marid, stop.”  
Nimrod is disappointed. “It felt wrong, didn’t it?”  
“It felt right, that’s what weirds me out right now” Iblis gives back. Nimrod smiles. Then they both ask: “So, you did all this-“ They pause, interrupting themselves.  
“Alright, who asks it first? I guess it was the same question?”  
“Let’s say it together.”  
“Right, so you did all this-“  
“-even though you knew I was your One Person, your soulmate? Yes. It was so hard at first. I didn’t want to fight you. I wanted to get to know you, as a person, not as an opponent. But it’s still my job to fight evil. I guess the wellbeing of the world was always more important than my personal happiness.”  
“Aww, that’s what I call determined.”  
“Also, I always thought you couldn’t...”  
“...couldn’t possibly have your name? Someone that horridly nasty couldn’t possibly be set up with a valiant soul like yours?”  
“Nonsense. You were just always trying to kill me, and that’s not what you usually do to your One.”  
“In my case, yes it is. I have a reputation to uphold” Iblis snaps back, then mutters something almost inaudible, that somehow includes the words my father.  
“Pardon me, I didn’t catch that bit. Your father? Was a cruel man, as far as I’ve heard, far more so than you. What about him?”  
“Treated me like a failure from the start. I mean, I understand him to a certain degree, his son, his only son, being born with the name of a famous Marid family on his wrist? Hell, I see why he went apeshit. He thought I’d never amount to much as an Ifrit. He thought that this would hold me back. Well, it didn’t. When I took over the leadership, I had a hell of a lot to prove. Not to my father, screw my father, but to myself. I had to prove I was the best – or, as you’d put it, the worst Ifrit. I don’t know what happens now. I never thought... things will have to change, right?”  
“Yes. Things will have to change big time.”

Things certainly happen differently from there. Five minutes after that exchange, John and Philippa are released from their bottle. They cheer at the sight of their uncle sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs smoking a cigar, looking very pleased with himself.  
“Uncle Nimrod! What happened?”  
“Where is Iblis?”  
“Here, I’m here” Iblis says, stepping up from behind a bookshelf.   
“Aargh!” Philippa screams.  
“Oh, shut the hell up, I won’t bite.”   
“Well, you said you would kill or enslave them. How are they not supposed to be afraid?” Nimrod chides. The situation is oddly undramatic. The twins would never have expected hero and villain to be so familiar. Also, Iblis looks like he has been through some traumatizing, life-altering experience since they’ve last seen him. They look from their uncle to the evil djinn and back again. “So...?” Philippa asks awkwardly.  
To their extreme surprise, Nimrod takes Iblis’s hand and shows the twins their wrists with their tattoos.  
“What’s going on?” John demands. Nimrod spends the next fifteen minutes lecturing the twins on soulmates, and what just happened here, and how it will probably affect the Marid, the Ifrit and their war. Then they walk back to Nimrod’s house holding hands, the twins, who are still having a hard time taking all of that in, trailing behind them.  
It is time for change.


	9. Headcanons, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another list of even more headcanons. I keep adding to those over time. Slight changes from the older version on ff.net might occur because I changed my mind about some things since I originally wrote this.

1\. The Breaking Point Headcanon. This one has a lot to do with how I imagine the whole soul-mirror business to work with evil djinn. Like, each and every of them has that point in their life when their conscience catches up with them and they have this...revelation that what they have done is pretty fucked up, and then they break down, mentally. Which does not necessarily mean that they can stop doing evil things now – older djinn like Iblis have probably been broken for a long time and just carry on because, whatevs, it's not like their lives can have any other purpose. In the synopados, the soul of an Ifrit who has broken will not appear black or something, but literally shattered. It'll look like someone smashed the mirror.

2\. Nimrod has seen Iblis's soul once on some occasion and was thoroughly disturbed.

3\. Nimrod pities everyone evil from the bottom of his heart. He wants to defeat Iblis for the primary purpose of bringing him home, giving him a large fluffy blanket and a cup of tea and making sure he stays nice and stable and non-threatening.

4\. Iblis has a hidden tattoo somewhere on him – just a stupid thing he did when he was young. It's nothing too grand, a small snake and a number thirteen or something (because of the song "thirteen" that is as close to Iblis's theme song as gets). The exact location of the thing I have not decided on... I'll leave it to the reader's imagination... ;p

4.5 As another Iblis theme song I would suggest "Red Right Hand" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds btw. That's just me though. Nimrod's theme song would be Sting's "Englishman in New York".

5\. Zombie apocalypse AU is something that needs to happen.

6\. Iblis undressing while "Sail" is playing in the background is also something that needs to happen.

7\. Nimrod said in book one that the Ifrit are cowardly and, with Iblis in custody, they wouldn't dare do anything. Well, that's true. Iblis sees his leadership as more like "watching a bunch of bratty five-year-olds that someone equipped with weapons of mass destruction that would put an atomic bomb to shame."

8\. When Iblis is really, horribly bored, he sexts Nimrod. For the hell of it.

9\. Nimrod can't dance.

10\. Between book one and two when Nimrod had the bottle with Iblis in his possession, he would sometimes take him out because keeping him in the freezer was just so cruel. Iblis, who obviously hated the freezer, thus had to socialize. They ended up having a pretty good time, until Iblis had to be handed over to Ayesha.

11\. Iblis has a namecalling kink. He gets off on his sexual partners telling him what an evil little piece of trash he is.

12\. Apropos kinks: Nimrod secretly likes pleading (only with Iblis). In a dark part of his mind he has always kind of wanted to make Iblis beg him to do... y'know, things. He'd also like to make him apologize, but that's a different matter.

13\. Whenever something "happens" between them, it's always Nimrod taking the initiative, or Iblis wanting to toy with or exploit Nimrod. It's tragic. It's one-sided. It's still majorly sexy.

14\. Iblis doesn't "make love", Iblis "fucks".

15\. Iblis is like an inversed supervillain – ruthless killer by day, totally normal family man by night...

16\. Nimrod's... unhealthy interest in his greatest enemy could be part of the reason of his breakup with Alexandra.

18\. There needs to be an AU where Iblis and Rudyard are freed from their jade suits. Rudyard, who had a lot of time to think about his mistakes, turns his life around and enforces inter-tribal peace and goes through lots of character development. He also gets closer to like-minded people from the good tribes, especially to Philippa who he learns to respect for her cleverness and courage. Iblis, meanwhile, has to deal with the consequences of having thoroughly failed at everything. And as Rudyard, pretty much spitting at his feet, tells him to go screw himself and his evil shit, and his other sons clearly voice their sense of this has gone too far about the fact that their father wanted to change the nature of the entire universe, Iblis realizes that he somehow managed to break apart the only thing he could rely on for his sanity – his family.

18.5 Imagine Philippa and Rudyard singing "Love is an Open Door"! (I'm sorry. I'm random.)

19\. It must be very depressing to Ifrit parents in general to raise their children, knowing that, for a reason they don't really know anymore, the only perspective in life their kids have is being evil and messing shit up. Imagine telling your child: Listen, kid, when you grow up, you'll get phenomenal cosmic powers, BUT the whole world will hate you. Even if you don't do anything. Just for being you, and being born into an Ifrit family. As soon as Ifrit kids get their powers, they're going to be viewed as threats by good djinn, and therefore receive threats. Vicious circle. And there's no way out.  
Imagine Ifrit parents like Iblis trying to protect their children as long as possible, trying to establish normal, safe lives outside their jobs – inversed-supervillain-lives – for the sake of their kids.  
Imagine them watching their kids grow up and experiment with their djinn powers and find joy in being free to do whatever immoral thing they want. Imagine them filled with bitterness, because yes, they had fun too when they were young, evil is fun to some extent ok, but they know that their kids will eventually have kids too and they're going to learn how depressing it all can be and how being evil will inevitably run you down...

20\. I'm not saying that kissing Iblis would have immediately redeemed him and prevented a lot of evil things to happen, I'm just saying Nimrod could have at least tried

21\. Or maybe he has tried (and didn't succeed), like have you noticed, in book one, when John and Philippa get out of the bottle where time has passed much slower, and Nimrod tells them they had in fact not been weeks but merely fifteen minutes? And as we saw earlier when they were being imprisoned, binding a djinn and bottling him up is a matter of seconds. But still Nimrod needed fifteen minutes with Iblis, like what in the world did they need fifteen minutes for

22\. Iblis cried through Despicable Me (he watched it with his sons, ok).

23\. I imagine Nimrod sometimes being a little self-conscious about his appearance, since pretty much everyone he knows is extremely attractive, such as: basically his entire family, his wife, the whole Sachertorte family, even Iblis, who, as I recall, is described as the good-looking English type (well, except for his...umm, little moments in book 3), while Nimrod's just... eccentric? (Guy's gotta know that firetruck-red clothes make him somewhat stand out). If it ever came up between them, I guess Iblis's reaction would be "Yeah, you look weird, so? I thought that's what you were aiming at."

24\. I like to imagine that Iblis secretly has some totally adorkable talent, like he's really good at drawing or baking cookies or playing the piano or what have you, but he never tells anyone about it because he's that evil guy ok and that's all the world needs to know

25\. Pretty much everyone in the CotL universe could use a therapist. There should REALLY BE a therapist there somewhere, because everyone's a bunch of unsolved problems, both villains AND good guys

26\. Guys, this just in: I discovered that there's an Elgar piece called "Nimrod", and it's sorta cute! And now, as the Iblis-playing-piano-headcanon (loosely based on book 3) has already gotten stuck in my brain, I want him to play this on the piano, maybe before a confrontation with Nimrod, and Nimrod walks in on him and listens and as he recognizes the song he tears up a little^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Nimrod and Iblis don't only have theme songs, noooo, they have a whole Spotify playlist that yours truly is currently assembling...


	10. Survivors Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I have every reason to call this a darkfic. It's about a different, worst-case-outcome of book 4, where Iblis won and Nimrod died. Sorry for the sadness... and also the violence, major character death, apocalyptic scenarios, suicide, and the author generally being an asshole... and pretty much pulling a George R. R. Martin...  
> Also, sorry for the Shakespeare quotes, I don't know what came over me...

It happened. He has won. For the first time in forever, Nimrod wasn't able to stop him. And now, he has changed the nature of the entire universe.

When he turns the jade pyramid upside down, inflicting an Enantodromian binding on all existence while Nimrod and the twins are watching helplessly, Iblis is elated and happy and drunk on his absolute power. Watching his terracotta warriors brutally murder his enemies at his command is even better. Evil makes you high, it really does, and it's the greatest feeling of the world, blowing out the flame of a life, _out, out brief candle_. It's the main reason why Iblis is doing it.

Alone with the dead bodies of his enemies, millions of dead children and an apocalypse on his conscience, Iblis laughs and laughs and doesn't stop until Rudyard taps him on the shoulder and asks him to because "Dad, you sound deranged and it's creeping me out".

Only several days later, he asks himself: What now?

Yes, what now...? Bad luck has triumphed over good forever. He only now understands that he has just now ended the war of the djinn tribes, rendering all evil djinn utterly useless. Their only purpose has been bringing bad luck to mundanes, and that's all done now. The lives of all Ifrit, Shaitan and Ghul are even more purposeless than before. And yes, that includes himself.

* * *

Meanwhile, the world turns to chaos. The millions of families all over the world who are heartbroken over the loss of their children are only the beginning. As the world experiences the full power of the Enantodromian, and every wish any mundane in the world makes turns to its exact opposite, world order as we know it ceases to exist. And we're not talking "harmless" mischief like someone wishing for coffee and getting tea. Not that things like this are not extremely troublesome and confusing for the poor, unassuming humans. It gets dangerous when someone wishes for coffee and receives rat poison – an Enantodromian wish is pretty unpredictable. But the people with greater, existential wishes, the people who wish for world peace or a long life, the people who say "I wish my terminally ill mother would get better", the people in third-world-countries wishing for access to more food, clean water and medical care, they are the real losers.

Resources are dwindling. Wars and plagues are breaking out. People are dropping dead by the thousands. The third-world-countries are first, with the developed world soon to follow. Humanity lives in fear.

There's nothing much the good djinn (those who are left) can do. And even if she could do something, Layla Gaunt would probably not. With her two beloved kids and her little brother dead... she is broken. They say she might have lost her djinn powers over the shock. And as the world slowly turns into a post-apocalyptic wasteland, no help comes from the Marid. Every one of them who attempts to save whatever they can choke on their helplessness, for no one can remove the binding. And still the man who is the cause of all this can cross a street in Vegas relatively unmolested.

I say _relatively_ because the situation in Las Vegas is just as dire as anywhere else. All the gangs and shady mafia organizations of the city have risen to the surface, fighting each other over money and resources. The Ifrit can't maintain control, even with their djinn powers. And while nobody molests Iblis, all his sons are involved in street wars.

Iblis feels his genius plan backfire on him, and spectacularly. He looks out of his window at the mundanes killing each other in the streets, sees Sin City turn into a hellhole, and feels useless and weary. This is not how it's supposed to go. He has won, for hell's sake, he should rejoice, but he doesn't.

He spends most of his time reading. _The complete works of William Shakespeare._ Right now, he's at _Othello_. The setting has nothing in common with his situation whatsoever, which is highly welcome. But as Othello, having smothered Desdemona in her bed, says _Methinks it must be now a great eclipse_ , he puts the book down. "A great eclipse" he mutters to himself and sighs, burying his head in his hands.

He doesn't know why, but this is when he makes the decision to visit Nimrod's grave.

* * *

 

So Iblis goes to London, seeks out the cemetery where they lay his old enemy down to his last rest. He finds the headstone, a simple thing with Nimrod's name in gold on it, totally unbecoming of Nimrod and his eccentric one-of-a-kind personality, his great soul. Someone – probably Layla – has left a bouquet of wilting red peony, Nimrod's favorite, a long time ago. Iblis stands before the grave and wonders what he's doing here. Nimrod wouldn't have liked this arrangement, that's for sure. He would have preferred a sea burial. He said that once. It's strange, the things he remembers about Nimrod.

He kneels down and retraces the letters. He has a feeling that he should say something. You do that in moments like this. What would Nimrod like to hear from him?

"I'm sorry" he says. "Really. I messed up and I'm sorry. I wish-"he bites his tongue in the last moment and corrects himself: " _I know_ none of this should have happened. So there. I said it. Sorry. That's what you always wanted, right?"

But of course none of this is anything close to what Nimrod always wanted. Nimrod wanted to save him, preferably before something like this happened. Nimrod wanted to take him home. Nimrod wanted to spread good luck. And, above all else, Nimrod probably didn't want to die like this.

And then he knows why he had to come here, knows why _Othello_ of all things reminded him of the Marid he's been fighting for the best part of his life. Because he knows that Marid loved him, with all his giant stupid heart, despite all, loved him. Because Nimrod, in a sense, has been his Desdemona, the only pure thing in this fucked up life that could have been his, _that loved him_ , and that he killed. "I'm sorry" he whispers once more, and knows Nimrod would have been delighted to hear that, if he only could. But he can't, anymore ever, and it's all his fault. He leans his back against the headstone and lets the wind wash a few stray drops of rain in his face. They almost feel like tears, but Iblis has forgotten how to cry a long time ago.

There's a mundane family at another grave nearby, he can overhear their praying. They're wishing their "dear departed" were with them in these "dark times". Iblis wonders what the Enantodromian binding will make of _that_. Probably a zombie apocalypse, he thinks bitterly.

* * *

 

He returns to Vegas, where his Ifrit await him with two more corpses. And not just any two corpses, no. _Jonathan and Rudyard._ Two of his sons he was supposed to protect. Murdered.

The regret tastes strange and bitter. He hadn't even told them to stay safe, or a word of goodbye. They have fought out there in the streets, and he wasn't there. Because he's just about the worst father ever.

Only now he remembers Dybbuk, poor Dybbuk. He doesn't even know where he is right now. Probably also dead already, what without his djinn powers.

That night he remembers how to cry.

* * *

He doesn't leave his apartment much in the following days. For the first time in his life, Iblis is genuinely, painfully sorry for his sins. He has won, but he has lost. And the only person he could have gone to, who could have somehow made it better, is dead because he killed him. He feels like dirt. The face in his bathroom mirror starts to look disgusting. One day, he seeks refuge in Shakespeare again, _Macbeth_ this time. _Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow..._

He yells and throws the book against the wall.

_A poor player that struts and frets..._

He picks up drinking again.

_...his hour upon stage, and then is heard no more..._

But he's stone cold sober the day he gets a razor and cuts into his left wrist, a deep, precise cut.

_It is a tale told by an idiot..._

Because even if their plans succeed, villains don't get happy endings.

_...full of sound and fury..._

Feeling more calm and collected than he did in a long time, he watches the blood droop out of his wrist, forming a slow growing puddle on the floor as his vision blurs and he's getting increasingly sleepy.

_...signifying nothing._

This doesn't feel so bad after all.


	11. Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to my roots (of shameless parody)! I present you:
> 
> A number of situations throughout the books where stuff could have gone differently and lots of evil could have been prevented
> 
> Every one of these is a (more or less funny) standalone. 
> 
> Also I am so sorry for the massive outbreak of angst that was the last chapter. This one is all light-hearted whimsy, I promise. With some boners. One boner. Iblis's.

Pre-canon:

"I should probably not do that" Iblis thought and went home to masturbate instead. Totally unaware of the chain of bad things he had just made not happen, he pretty unceremoniously shot what would have been Dybbuk up a wall.

\--------

"I should probably not do that" Faustina thought and refrained from possessing the British prime minister.

\--------

When Iblis answered his door, he was confronted with an extremely angry Jenny Sachertorte, with a baby tucked under her arm.

"Iblis, we need to talk" she said.

"What the hell" said Iblis.

\---------

The whole Ifrit tribe consulted a therapist and had their issues sorted out.

* * *

Book 1, Cairo:

"...You two have _so_ much in common" Hussein Hussaout said.

"Are you trying to play matchmaker, Hussein?" Nimrod asked half-jokingly.

Hussein shrugged. "Can't blame a man for trying" he said. "You know you'd really be so hot together."

"Iblis is always hot" Nimrod said without thinking, then hurriedly added: "Because he's a djinn, get it, fire... pun intended?"

"Not buying it, my friend" Hussein Hussaout grinned. "You know he's having us watched right now, do you? And that he's also hella _fast_?"

Right at that moment, Iblis threw the door open. "Nimrod, we need to talk" he announced dramatically.

And that's how two influential djinn found themselves on a date instead of squabbling over who gets to take over the world or whatever.

* * *

 

Book 1, still Cairo

After locking the twins up in the Brandy decanter, Iblis enjoyed his victory... for an entire two seconds, as Nimrod suddenly came out of the computer.

"Woah, Marid, way to give me a heart attacmmff-"

Iblis never finished his sentence because Nimrod backed him up against the table and _oh my God, where did that stupid Marid learn to kiss like that? Something needs to be done... immediately...in a minute...wow hey don't put your hand there oh. God. Yes..._

* * *

Book 2

Edwiges the Side Character became the new Blue Djinn, as Nimrod had planned, and saved everyone an almost infinite amount of trouble.

* * *

Book 3, Las Vegas/India

Iblis hired competent servants/ went after Nimrod and Mr. Rakshasas himself. Therefore, his ~~hot~~ original body was not eaten by tigers.

* * *

Book 3, London/Vegas

"Do you think Iblis could have something to do with the snake cultists?" Nimrod asked.

Mr. Rakshasas answered that no, he thought that pretty unlikely.

"Anyhow, just for the twins' sake, I'd like to know where he is. He's the primary antagonist" Nimrod said, momentarily glancing over the fourth wall like a Colossal Titan. "So I think he's top priority. I'd rather go after him before getting wrapped up in other stuff. Which I should have done months ago, right when he escaped, by the way."

And thus Nimrod went to Vegas, did some snooping around, and finally found Iblis in his secret hideout, aka his hotel room that he hadn't left for weeks. Observing the activity in Ifrit-run casinos had become very boring very quickly, so now he was watching a vines compilation on youtube, accompanied by his pet rats and a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Iblis, _what on earth_ " Nimrod said.

"What!?" Iblis replied around a mouthful of ice cream. "I just needed some me time, is all."

" _Me time_ " Nimrod repeated acidly. Then he took a deep breath. "Alright. So. Don't you think I'll even fight you in that state. Here's what's going to happen. You are going to take a shower, tidy your hair, cut your nails, brush your teeth, at least change your pajamas, shave that bush off your face... and for the sake of everything holy, get rid of the rats. Ew."

Iblis crossed his arms, legs and just about anything else that was crossable. "No."

"Fine. Then I'll do that for you." He went to the bed and scooped the protesting Ifrit into his arms, lifting him up bridal style.

"Which way to the bathroom, good sir?" he asked the baffled mundane servant who, with a wide smile spreading over his features, pointed to a nearby door. Here finally was someone even more haughty and English than his master.

"Thank you so much" Nimrod said.

"You're fired, Oleaginus" Iblis called over his shoulder.

"Thank God, finally" Oleaginus whispered.

And as Nimrod and Iblis quite involuntarily took a shower together, Oleaginus danced out of the casino singing something that sounded like "Smeagol is free" over and over.

* * *

Book 4, Las Vegas

Dybbuk listened to his mother.

"Dammit" Iblis thought, went back to bed and didn't come out until next Christmas.

* * *

Book 4 – the day Dybbuk threw a pizza at Adam Apollonius

The high and mighty Jonathan Tarot was bored. He was hanging around trying to eat a pizza, but he was distracted by Adam Apollonius, who had curiously started telling dad jokes. At last, Dybbuk got so annoyed that he tried to haul the entire pizza into the man's face, but his plan was foiled as Apollonius glared at the pizza and made it spontaneously combust.

Dybbuk gaped. "How did you do that?!"

"Umm, I'm a conjuror? Duh?"

"No, those were djinn powers. You're a djinn like me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh stop lying, man, tell me the truth."

"Fine." Apollonius cleared his throat. "Dybbuk, I am your father."

"No, that's not true!" screamed Dybbuk...

* * *

Book 4 – Xian, China

"...What about the joy of beating me? That'll be over forever. The people need the possibility of good and evil to make their lives interesting. And you know that goes for you, too..."

"Don't listen to him, dad, he-"

"Shut up, Rudyard. So what you're saying is that we basically need each other? Like, good needs evil to exist and vice versa, but I personally also need you...personally?"

"And vice versa" Nimrod said. He swallowed the lump in his throat and went on: "You... I've long ago accepted that. You are a constant in my life. Your hate is what keeps me going. As strange as it sounds, you are the reason I get out of bed some days. You're the one who never left me, and yes, I need you. You must feel it too. None of us can overthrow the other, because what's left to do without each other? What would I do with a life without our fight? What do I do with a life without you?"

Groanin and the twins watched in astonishment as Iblis slowly lifted a hand to his mouth. "You do know, Nimrod, that this is the most romantic thing anyone ever said to me in the history of ever?"

"So...?" Nimrod began, but faltered, because he didn't know just _what_ he was even going to ask _._

Later none of them knew who had made the first step, but suddenly they had their arms around each other and they were hugging and everything was somehow magically turning out to be alright.

Iblis let go after a while, and looked around like someone waking up from a long dream. He looked at the terracotta warriors, his own jade armor, and the pyramid full of screaming, crying children's souls.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

* * *

Book 4, Xian, China – the steamy NSFW version

Would you believe that doing evil things gives certain strange-minded people a hard-on? It does. And that's _really uncomfortable_ when you're wearing a jade armor.

Iblis couldn't wait until this fricking thing was done for so he could get out of the jade suit and just bloody have a wank. Hey, it's an essential need, okay? So maybe that was why he wasn't quite paying attention to all the fine detail and was rather rudely surprised by Philippa's arrival with the golden tablet (of doom). And thus, one thing led to another and his whole evil plan was foiled. You know the story.

Thereafter...

"So, you guys know that you're going to be punished for messing with my plans. _Cruelly punished._ Starting with you, Nimrod."

"Oh joy" Nimrod muttered.

"So, I could order my djinn warriors to rip you to pieces or something, but, y'know, I'm not in the mood." Not in the mood indeed – Iblis could feel his raging hardness tight against the jade armor and almost moaned out loud. God, that really _hurt_ – and here was a perfect solution.

"Back him up against the wall" he ordered his djinn warriors lazily in Chinese. "And you, Marid, get on your hands and knees."

"Iblis, what are you-"

"Cover your eyes, Rudyard" Iblis now ordered his son. "Or better yet, leave this place. That goes for everyone else too." He stepped up behind Nimrod. "We are going to have so much _fun_ " Iblis hissed into Nimrod's ear, reached around him and opened his pants.

Nimrod uttered a defeated sigh. "Just...try and be gentle, will you."

Iblis actually laughed a little. "Oh, Marid. You messed with the most intricately, cleverly hatched evil plan I could have possibly developed – I won't _be gentle_."

"Umm, uncle Nimrod?" Philippa called out as she was dragged out of the pyramid. "You know, I have the golden tablet right here with me, should I do-"

"Philippa, don't you dare do anything" Nimrod said very calmly. "This is going to be so good."

That made Iblis hesitate. "Why, what do you mean by that?"

"I mean" Nimrod replied "that if you insist on playing this way, and even if I'm going to have to peel every piece of jade off you with my own two hands, before the night is over, I'm going to make you _very sorry..._ for _everything_."

"Let's see" Iblis breathed.

Half an hour later, the golden tablet began to glow and smoke, and another djinn appeared in the pyramid.

"I am the great Khan-" he began.

"Yes, go away. We're busy."

"But... I'm here to punish..."

"Your possibly archaic and cruel methods of punishment are not needed! I can handle him myself! Now goodbye!"

"Aww" the great Khan sighed and disappeared.

* * *

Book 5, New Haven

"No, you can't come with us."

"Oh" Zadie said.

"Maybe next adventure, _bye now Zadie_."

* * *

Book 5, secret Incan city thingamabob

"Please don't do it, Dybbuk" the whole world and everyone in it said.

_And Dybbuk_ **fucking** **LISTENED**. **THE END**

 


	12. Souls, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the soulmate AU. Will also have Philippa/Rudyard.

Nimrod is worried. He hasn't seen Iblis since the fateful day when the both of them found out about each others' soulmate tattoos.

He had been overjoyed. This meant so much to him. Apart from the obvious fact that _he has found his soulmate after all, and it's this good-looking, intelligent, well-mannered (sometimes), educated man he has known for all this time and has so much in common with who is also very evil but oh well nobody's perfect_ it meant that this discovery, that a good and an evil djinn could share soulmateship, could well end the war between the djinn tribes. Who knew how many others like them there were, for whom they could now set a shining example? Maybe it was possible to unite the six tribes that way. Maybe they could, despite their differences, coexist.

Only that Iblis doesn't seem so keen on coexisting, and has disappeared within the same day, with the vague reassurance of "I won't make you trouble". And he doesn't. In fact, Nimrod has no idea where in the world he is.

It bugs him. He wants to talk to him at length about everything, but no, that bloody Ifrit has to ruin everything and walk away.

He misses him.

* * *

Actually Iblis hasn't even left Cairo. As soon as he heard of the small revolution that Nimrod was so incensed about planning, he had gotten the hell out of there. It isn't that he's strictly against peace – he just doesn't know what he's _for_ anymore. He is... wavering.

One side of him wants to go on as usual, back to his evil schemes, namely the search for Akhenaten's missing djinn, but another side – and that's the scary thing – wants to _stay with Nimrod._ So, until he has gotten a grip on everything, he's hiding out in the desert, where he hopes Nimrod – or his fellow Ifrit – won't look. He has, in fact, returned to the broken statue ("Ozymandias" by Shelley, as he had immediately recognized) near the ancient tomb which he had locked Nimrod up in. It had been the first time in years that he had looked at his soulmark at all, because it had Nimrod's secret name on it and he needed that to bind him.

Now that it has been bared, the bloody thing behaves like the scab on an old wound ripped open – it itches. And more than that. Not a minute passes where he won't absentmindedly scratch it or retrace it or rub his fingers over it. It's like he has to touch the thing every few moments. For a long time, he has tucked it away from everyone's eyes, conceal don't feel, barely ever even looking at it. Having it out in the open is something new. When he rubs his fingers over Nimrod's name, he feels... something, a strange tingling sensation that feels...exciting, but also strangely familiar, like something he felt before, but he can't remember when. It's as if every beat of his heart (which is _just an organ to pump blood, okay,_ Iblis has no _metaphorical_ heart) sends a new small ache up his wrist. Something to do with blood circulation, he assumes, and certainly _not_ the mysterious force of his soul pulling him back due Nimrod.

So, he's hiding out. It's quite alright. He's doing well in deserts (being a djinn and such), and the solitude is rather soothing. He could feel nice and warm and whole, were it not for the damn soulmark and its antics. When suddenly his phone rings in his pocket, it's the first sound he hears in days, and he starts so badly he almost slips off the plinth. It's Rudyard.

"Hi, son" he answers the phone.

"Hey dad." Rudyard sounds unusually troubled. "I'm having a little problem over here."

"A problem?"

"Yeah. My soulmate tattoo just formed."

"Great, how's that a problem?"

"It says _Philippa Gaunt_ , dad. Who the hell is Philippa Gaunt?"

Iblis puts a hand to his mouth, remembering Nimrod's red-haired niece. "That could really be a problem" he admits. "Listen, why don't we meet up and talk about...problems?"

* * *

He sleeps in his car that night, and when he wakes up, he finds fresh scratch marks all over his wrist. Apparently he's been scratching himself in his sleep, so deeply that he drew blood. He looks at Nimrod's name, the writing all obscured by the scratches, and decides: _Alright. No more hiding._

* * *

A few days later, Nimrod receives the message that djinn intelligence has spotted his nemesis back in Las Vegas.

"I have to go to Vegas to pursue Iblis" he tells John and Philippa. "You don't have to come with me if you don't-"

"I always wanted to see Las Vegas" John says, and that settles it.

* * *

The search for Iblis proves really tricky, especially as Nimrod is torn between urgently wanting to find him as soon as possible, and avoiding the attention of the rest of the Ifrit. Who unfortunately are pretty much everywhere.

He feels as if he can actually sense the evil all over the place. This city is... just no good for him to be in. From the moment they get out of their hotel and begin their search, Nimrod feels a growing unease within him. By now he wishes he hadn't taken the twins. He doesn't want to endanger them. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and at last they end up in front of an infamous Ifrit casino, with no other option than to go in. That is, until a voice in Nimrod's back says: "You don't really want to go doing that, right?"

He turns around and sees a black car sidling up the curb. The license plate says KINGCOBRA, and Iblis is looking out of the driver's window (when he's in town he drives an Aston Martin). Obviously Nimrod's search has come to an end.

Iblis looks annoyed as he gets out of the car and roughly grabs Nimrod by the front of his suit. " _You idiot_ , what are you doing in my territory?" he hisses.

"Looking for you?"

"You can be glad I found you first. Before some of the others do. Not all Ifrit have my nice and understanding demeanor." He obviously wants to rant some more, but then he seems to notice something, his brows furrow and his expression changes from pissed off to alert. "Look me in the eyes, moron" he requests, snapping his fingers in front of Nimrod's face. "Look at me, dammit. Marid, you've been roofied."

"I've been what?"

"Welcome to Vegas."

"Nonsense. All I had was a small glass of water at the hotel bar..."

Iblis rolls his eyes and moans. "Bloody hell, Marid, this is Las Vegas. People here _will_ stoop as low as spiking your water. If you were a mundane, you'd be flat on your back already. Since you're a djinn, you're bound to react a bit differently. Believe me, I've had my fair share of roofies in this city, I know what I'm talking about... hey, stay with me, will you? No passing out on my watch...oh look, it happened already. Well, not like we're not used to it." John and Philippa can't help shrinking back a bit when the most evil djinn in the world turns to them. "Would you kindly get him into the car? Go in back. Once again, I don't intend to bite you. Just get your asses off the street, before the... more hands-on Ifrit happen upon you. You're relatively safe with me. But don't let me catch you around my casinos again, there's a policy against that shit. The sulky-pants in the front seat is my son Rudyard, by the way. Meet _Miss Philippa Gaunt_ and her brother John, Rudyard..."

* * *

When Nimrod comes by again, he's lying in a foreign bed with his shoes removed, alone. Iblis has left a sticky note glued to his forehead, that says he would await him in the bar downstairs and that they need to talk. He finds breakfast on a tray by the bed.

When he gets down to the bar, Iblis is indeed there, waiting for him in a secluded booth. Apparently _his_ breakfast consists of a cigarette and a glass of Scotch. Nimrod approaches him and hugs him as a greeting, thus getting to discreetly smell him up, deducing that, no, this has probably not been his first drink. Judging from his general mood, he's not had enough to get him seriously tipsy yet, but just enough to make him aggressive.

"So, we need to talk, do we? Tired of hiding from me?" Nimrod opens the conversation.

"Basically, my son has found your niece's name on his wrist. That's what I want to talk about, not any of your lovey-dovey bullshit" Iblis says frankly.

Nimrod is surprised, but pleasantly so. "But that's great!" he reacts. "He's another precedent showing that inter-tribal soulmateship is possible! Just like us! We can show the world! We can have peace at last! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yeah, wonderful" Iblis repeats, frowning. "I'm so happy for you. You and your ulterior motives."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I kinda get you wanting to exploit me for your political agenda, even though it's... not very _soulmately?_ But leave my son out of this."

"Exploiting you? No... I just thought you may want this too. I've been waiting all these years to get this, never even dared to think I was not some fault in the system or something... I almost gave up hope to ever get to you, and then..."

"Well, you could have said something."

"Well, _you_ could have said something!" Nimrod huffs, then pinches the bridge of his nose with an air of tiredness. "I should have known you would refuse to go with this and rather just ignore me, as always, just for your own _stubbornness._ I should have known you'd be the problem."

"So that's what I am to you, eh? The _problem_." Now Iblis is well and truly pissed. Actually he has been all along, he's just now showing it.

"Why, that's what you always wanted our relationship to be" Nimrod replies. "We've been doing this for well over a century now."

"It was different then. I didn't know... I felt like a glitch too, Marid, don't you think. I willingly became _the problem._ Your problem. The world's problem. But now..." He sighs, then stands up, pretty sure he doesn't want to spill any more of his feelings to someone who's still technically the enemy. "This is difficult. Maybe we should forget about it." He lightly touches his wrist. "Visit a djinn surgeon and get these removed."

"You can't mean that."

"I think I can. Not the worst thing I've done. Not the first time I got rid of my feelings."

"Wait!" The prospect of Iblis leaving, cutting the binding between them, seems to have Nimrod frantic. He reaches up and grabs Iblis's hands. "Please... please don't leave."

" _Please_ , hmmm?" Iblis repeats, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. This is bad for him too, a part of him doesn't want to leave, knows it will be painful to do so, but another part, the dark, the power-hungry one, the one that gets high on screams of pain, simply enjoys watching the Marid suffer. Oh how much pain he could cause for this one, simply by not doing anything... but it would bounce back on him and that's not desirable.

Only thing left to determine is whether the pain of staying wouldn't be far greater than the pain of leaving.

He swoops down again, bringing his face so close to Nimrod's that Nimrod can no doubt smell the alcohol on his breath. "Then tell me one thing, Marid" he demands, "Do you want me for politics or do you want me for me?"

He feels that this'll settle the issue. This is Nimrod, his only aim is achieving peace. He's on a mission. And he knows...Iblis. He can't possibly want anything _from him really_. He'll be ashamed of himself, but he'll tell the truth. _All I want is peace between our tribes. Nothing more. I'm sorry._

But Nimrod surprises him by looking him in the eyes and saying: "I want you for you." Then his resolve breaks, something in his eyes shifts from truthful warrior to soft and teary and, his cheeks high red, he adds a whispered "I love you".

It takes all Iblis has not to wince away, stand up and fucking run. He inhales, rules his fight-or-flight down, tries to think like a person. "Love" he echoes. "Are you sure? Weird thing, y'know, love."

"Have you ever been?"

"In love? Pffft. A few times, maybe, I think." He slumps back into his seat. Nimrod is still holding his hands.

"I've known it for all these years. It's not a recent thing. It's not a lie" Nimrod states soberly, brushing his thumb over Iblis's soulmark.

"But I-"

"I know who you are and what you've done. Still..." He's saying even more things, something about scruples and how it's been bothering him, but Iblis has a hard time listening. The stroking his wrist is very distracting. It feels a deep sense of _right,_ and it brings that feeling back, that strange tingling excitement he couldn't place his hands on earlier, but about ten times stronger now that Nimrod is doing it.

"Listen, let me try something" he interrupts quite suddenly and lays his free hand on Nimrod's arm, doing the same to him. "Marid, tell me, does this feel... good to you?"

"Mmmhh" Nimrod nods, increasing the pace of what he's doing.

Oh. _Oh._ It dawns on Iblis what that feeling is. He's had it before, his fair share of it, just not in connection with _Nimrod,_ ever. _Arousal. So soulmarks are an erogenous zone? This is so weird._ He wonders if other couples have ever discovered that, _wait, what am I thinking, other couples? Nimrod is my enemy._

But his _enemy's_ breath is hitching and he's rubbing his index finger against his own name that is _written there for a reason, stupid,_ and he's looking at him entirely faithful in his ability not to kill him, and suddenly he's very close and there are lips on his lips, and Iblis Teer, most renowned evil djinn in the world, is feeling a bit light-headed due to all the blood rushing into his groin. He groans, pushes his tongue against Nimrod's closed lips, _stupid Marid doesn't even know how to kiss properly, well he'll learn, oh how he will learn._

This time it is Nimrod who breaks the kiss.

"Marid, don't you dare stop" Iblis growls at him, for the first time actually threatening.

"Iblis, we're in public. Why don't we go to your place. Wherever that may be."

"We can't, it's far too heavily guarded. People will see us."

"And by people you mean Ifrit."

"Yes."

"Let them see then. As you would word it, _what the heck_."

Iblis laughs softly, delighted on having gotten his Marid to swear. _His Marid_ – that starts feeling right now.

He thinks he can get Nimrod's point about showing the world.

* * *

Meanwhile, Rudyard has been ordered to show _Miss Philippa and her brother_ around town, mainly so the grownups can have some alone time. Being who he is, Rudyard of course has free access to _everywhere_. John and Philippa have an incredibly fun day, and when they get back to their hotel by the end of it, they have become familiar enough with Rudyard that he feels he can use this chance.

Almost shyly, he rolls up his sleeve, shows Philippa his wrist, and asks her to give him a chance, especially as he thinks he likes her, and "Dad and your uncle are doing it too, so it'll be okay".

Things get a little awkward as Philippa bares her own soulmate tattoo, which is her twin brother's name, John Gaunt.

"What, does that mean you only get to be with your brother and nobody else?" Rudyard asks, as bewildered as he is disappointed.

"No, silly" Philippa chuckles. "Uncle Nimrod explained it all to us. Of course this doesn't mean I have to get with my brother. Yuck. Soulmates aren't always romantic. It just means that our souls are connected, which is... not that much of a surprise. We're twins. We almost always think the same things. John has my name too, naturally."

John shrugs. "It's just who we are. I wouldn't know what to do without Phil. So..."

Rudyard slumps a bit. "So, that means not a chance for me."

"I... didn't say that" Philippa says carefully.

* * *

They decide to take things slowly. Yes, she's inclined to give Rudyard a chance, no she won't fall head over heels for him. She's not that kind of person.

So they meet up a few times. Lots of times. They are djinn. They can go wherever they want whenever they want, the long distance is almost not worth worrying over. They go to the movies, or for waffles, sometimes they just meet and talk. They also chat. A lot. Their taste in books, movies and music is as different as could be, so they just compromise and watch, read and listen to everything. She teaches Rudyard how to get better at Djinnverso. It's not that he's just crap at it. It's rather his short temper that is the problem. He learns a lot from her and her gentle Marid family. Mostly about channeling his rage into something useful. Philippa finds out that he's actually pretty intelligent, and nice in his way, underneath it all. And she learns too, from his big, loud Ifrit family. Mostly about love, and it being found anywhere really, even with people who may be a bit –a lot – darker than morally gray. Somewhere along the way, "meeting up" becomes "going on dates".

One day, Philippa takes a sharpie and writes Rudyard's name on her wrist, just underneath John's, just to see what it looks like, and also in hopes of making Rudyard smile. He does smile when he sees it. He doesn't say anything, but it's good to know she cares.

As Philippa takes a shower in the evening and the writing won't go off, she's in for a surprise. It stays through the next days too, refusing to fade even a bit, no matter how much she scrubs. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry or both, she calls Rudyard. When he answers the phone she says: "Listen, I think it became permanent."

He knows immediately what she's talking about.

 


	13. Shutter Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a confusing AU at first, but just bear with me, you'll get the hang of it as the story goes on... I watched Shutter Island a short time before I wrote this... and it shows

Nimrod's eyes blink open.

He's in a bright, light room, white seems to be the dominant color. But what's far more important than his surroundings is Iblis, who is standing over him, looking at him with an almost mild expression that differs very much from his usual, rather unbecoming frown. Something about this situation is strange, and with his sleep-addled mind, for a second he can't remember where he is.

But as he wakes up some more, he remembers. He's at home in London. But what is Iblis doing here?

No, that's wrong, too. He is in Cairo, on a quest for the missing djinn of Akhenaten. Unfortunately, the Ifrit are on a similar quest, and so he is right now having his final stand against Iblis. Why he blacked out earlier isn't quite clear yet, but maybe the Ifrit put up a fight, knocked him against the wall he's leaning on. But Nimrod knows his enemy is exhausted now and can't fight much longer. He's got the upper hand.

"I foiled you again, Iblis" he calmly informs him.

"Probably saving the world from my wiles once more" Iblis says with a thin smile bordering on tiredness. "Congratulations, Mr. Godwin."

So many things are off about that answer. But the strangest thing is...

"Why did you just call me that?"

"Called you what, sir?"

_"Mr. Godwin."_

Now Iblis does frown. He's also not wearing his usual suit, but casual clothes under what looks like a white lab coat. This getup is unusual, and makes him look a lot less threatening than he has any right to look. "Because that's your name, isn't it." Although it sounds careful, it's not a question.

Nimrod clicks his tongue. "Of course it is, don't be silly." He ignores the fact that he just heard Iblis mutter _oh thank goodness_ under his breath and goes on: "But you don't usually call me that. You call me Nimrod."

"Oh, first-name basis, are we? Actually, we do not usually address patients by their first names in this institution. Professionalism and respect have always been our watchwords. And I do wish you'd call me Doctor Teer. But that's not what I disturbed you for. Look, you have a visitor, sir – your sister."

Nimrod is baffled as a door opens and Groanin appears, letting Layla in. She looks like she doesn't want to be here. But it's her alright.

Iblis walks up to her, holds out a hand. "Mrs. Gaunt, I'm very glad you could make it." Layla shakes his hand, apparently unbothered by the great danger she's in. His sister isn't usually that foolish...

"Layla, get away from him" he warns her, standing up. "And don't shake his hand! He'll steal your powers, or worse! You know who he is!"

Layla just looks at him and shakes her head, a distressed look on her face. "Not to worry, Mrs. Gaunt, that's a common occurrence here" Iblis intervenes. "Absolutely harmless. I suggest we go somewhere else, though. No use in upsetting him. We don't want another whirlwind incident, do we? Mr. Groanin will take excellent care of him." He ushers Layla out the door, where Nimrod can do nothing for her. He panics for a second, he has to save his sister from Iblis, but then it dawns on him.

_This is a dream._

The white room, Iblis and Layla being so familiar around each other, all of this is not real. He is dreaming. And as Groanin gently guides him to the bed, he closes his eyes and tries to wake up.

* * *

 

"Mrs. Gaunt,we've been trying for so many years. I do not plan on leading you on. None of our medications have worked so far. I'm afraid it's terminal."

"I feared it" Layla sighs, suppressing a few stray tears.

She's sitting in Dr. Teer's office. He offers her a tissue.

"No thanks, it's alright" she declines politely, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's just... it's still a bit shocking to see him like that. He hasn't gotten a bit better, has he? I mean... what even was that just?"

"Who can fully know that?" Dr. Teer shrugs. "I have an explanation, but it's a little difficult to, um, explain."

"I have time" Layla insists.

"You see, Mrs. Gaunt, your brother has taken to including everyone that works in this clinic into his pretend-world. For example, he thinks that Dr. Rakshasas is his djinn friend, an adviser of some sort. Mr. Groanin, the nurse you met earlier, is his butler. This... fantasy world he escapes into is very elaborate. You see that set of mind sometimes with chronically schizophrenic patients. Telling him that there is no such thing as djinn will not sway him in the slightest."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm the villain, of course" Dr. Teer gives a sarcastic laugh. "No good story without a villain, eh? Iblis Teer, the most renowned evil djinn in the world, leader of some evil tribe or other. I must admit, it almost flatters me, being attributed such a terrifying reception. Of course, as I'm the one who most often tries to break through his escape world and reattach him to a rather more unpleasant reality, his mindset of me is naturally... hostile. And then there's the association of my name."

"Iblis, which dates back to the holy Qu'ran, where it serves to name the Muslim equivalent of Satan."

"Yes" Iblis says with a strained smile. "Of course your brother knows that."

"And about me...?"

"From what I gathered, you're still his sister, also a mighty djinn of course. But he talks of you as absent from the djinn...community or society, call it what you will. He expressed frustration over you, um, distancing yourself from your djinn powers."

"That makes sense. I mean, I tried talking him out of this djinn nonsense at first."

"He doesn't mention you all that often. Most of his...adventures rather resolve around your kids." He leafs through some files. "John and Philippa, both fourteen. Right?"

"No, doctor. They were fourteen when he got ill. They've graduated high school this summer." As if feeling the need to prove it, Layla takes a photo out of her wallet. It shows the twins wearing graduation robes and hats, waving their high school diplomas proudly. "They are good kids. We are so proud. Especially of Philippa. She's been accepted into Yale just now."

"Congrats, Mrs. Gaunt. That's a good college. I've been there myself. But you almost have to be a genie to afford that kind of education these days."

"Thanks. Well, I'm not a genie. My husband got into money as an investment banker. I'm currently working as his CEO and raising the kids. You know, Nimrod and I were so close as children. But then, as things go you know, I married, we both went our separate ways. I moved to NY, he stayed in London. He traveled a lot. We hadn't met in ages. But then he became...like that. It started out with pretty harmless things, like. He started making up all kinds of stuff, like his special djinn handshake, where you make with your middle finger like that..." she demonstrates it, "...so that nobody takes advantage of your powers. He was convinced that he could make anything happen just by concentrating really hard and shouting some nonsense word. We had to take him in with us because he couldn't take care of himself anymore. He thought he could simply wish for food and it would appear. But, well, he wasn't doing any harm to anyone, and he had always been...eccentric. We only decided to get him into a clinic after the...whirlwind incident. That you know of."

"Tried to conjure up a whirlwind to fly on, on the roof of the Guggenheim museum in New York. Hmm."

"He almost got himself killed." Layla wipes her eyes again. "At least here he's safe. Even though, excuse me but I'll be frank, I don't feel like you're getting much done."

"Excused already, Mrs. Gaunt. It's natural of you to doubt us and I don't take offense. As I said, we tried very hard and are still trying, but we can't work miracles. Unfortunately I'm no genie either. And there's only so far we can go. The law prohibits psychiatrists from trying...overly harsh treatments without the patient's consent, and since your brother, and now I'll be frank, doesn't even know where he is or who we really are, he won't consent to much. Even though Mr. Godwin would surely say otherwise, I do have some scruples. We can't cure everyone. But we can make sure he's safe and gets treated like a person, with due respect."

"So, his brain's a total fry-up" Layla concludes bitterly.

"Saying that would be doing your brother injustice." Dr. Teer replies. "He remains one of the most intelligent people I have ever treated. It takes a lot to build up such intricate a world that is based strictly on scientific fact. The details that thing goes into are elaborate and fascinating and very well thought out. I take it he was quite an expert in the field of science before the illness?"

"Yes. He was a bit of a...Renaissance man. Skilled in every field, you know. Mathematics, physics, literature, all kinds of foreign cultures, multiple languages, a bit of geology... I thought he was a genius. But then everything changed."

"I have reason to believe that everything roots in what might have happened to his wife. Alexandra, I think her name was. Do you have any information regarding that?"

"No, doctor. I... actually, I didn't even know anything of a wife. As I said, we've been out of contact for ages. I must admit I'm a bit shocked now."

"Oh, but I'm pretty sure she's real. If my theory is correct, this...djinn world is some form of escapism. All in order to escape whatever happened to his wife. You know, Mrs. Gaunt, when you work here a while, you start to view people differently. Mr. Godwin is...completely out of this world most of the time, but that doesn't mean he's just totally cuckoo. He has worked us, the doctors and nurses, into his system, and it works for him. He's...insightful. I'd even say wise. And he's as good a judge of the human psyche as I am. For example, our Mr. Groanin had a bit of a...history way back. Nothing too serious, he had been unemployed for some years and did some low-level thieving to get by. He's very glad to have gotten a second chance in this clinic. Your brother talked to the man a few times and just...was in the picture. And he's reacted most positively to Groanin ever since. He's made him his personal butler. I think it flatters Groanin. As for me, I...haven't made much time for my kids lately. I've been...very wrapped up in my work. And Mr. Godwin somehow seemed to notice. It's all within his system, but he spoke to me about my son Dybbuk just yesterday. We're always in for an eye-opener with him. And it never does harm to listen to what he says. And while he still perceives me as the villain he has to fight, he himself is intent on using his 'djinn powers' purely to help others. He seems to believe him and the other 'good djinn' are responsible for some sort of balance of good luck in the whole world. It's a power fantasy, but an entirely benevolent one. He seems to feel like he rather has to help us. So as long as he does no harm to himself or others, who can say it's morally bad to want to live in a world of adventures and magic carpets where wishes still come true?"

* * *

 

Later, in the evening, when his shift ends, Dr. Teer checks on Mr. Godwin one last time. He could well be considered one of the most interesting cases of his career. Their therapy sessions are always as strangely fascinating as they are exhausting. Despite what he has said to Mrs. Gaunt, he has long given up trying to coerce the man out of his fantasy world. He knocks on the door to his room before opening it. _Professionalism and respect._

His patient is sitting on the bed. Deep brown eyes stare at him calmly. They seem to look directly into his soul.

"Just here to say goodnight, Mr. Godwin" he says with a forced smile.

"Go see your son and apologize, villain" Mr. Godwin advises gravely.

"Will do, sir, will do. Actually, I'm going on vacation with the family next week. So I'll have to postpone our therapy sessions, unfortunately."

"You're the one who needs therapy here. Not I."

"Maybe you're right, sir." _Gosh, maybe he is. Maybe I do need a psychiatrist soon. What with this darn depressing atmosphere all over this clinic. What I definitely need is a vacation. A long one. Or just some sleep. God, I'm tired._ He always is these days. Ever since his wife left, and he has to provide for the kids on his own, he feels like he's working his hands to the bone while still, somehow failing as a father. He gets _nightmares_ , sometimes, of breaking down, of becoming like his patients in the ward for the terminally ill. Sometimes, in the darkest hours of night, he can almost hear the voices already, screaming in his mind what a failure he was, _failure, failure, failure._ And here is this man, who believes that anything is possible, that he can heal the world with his powers of good. Lucky bastard.

He has almost closed the door, when Mr. Godwin adds: "Get help, Iblis. Even if it's just for your drinking problem."

Iblis turns his head so fast, he almost catches whiplash.


	14. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, after the seventh book I've started to think that Nimrod is kind of cursed – everyone he cares for either dies or abandons him or both – so, as I'm still kinda sad, this chapter is about sad Nimrod growing old alone – with a surprise twist. Like, did you notice how my chapters always start out in an okay mood, only to then devolve into THE SADS? This time, it starts sad and gets... um, maybe slightly less sad?

Why do they always leave?

The question was a selfish one, but after his last adventure with John and Philippa, it began to grow in Nimrod's mind. As he sat, brooding about the loss of the twin's and eventually his own djinn powers, alone in his London estate, it occurred to him that people leaving him was a recurring pattern in his life. It had started with his mother, who had left him and Layla on their own to become blue djinn. His father had been absent from the very start. And it had gone on from there. Alexandra had left, Layla had left. Mr. Rakshasas had left, but that wasn't his fault of course. Even Iblis had left. Then Layla _again_. And now John and Philippa too. After sacrificing their djinn powers, they had politely told him that they wished no further contact to djinn society. They just wanted to go on with their normal lives. Now Nimrod was alone again, naturally. The only person who had stayed was Groanin, and that only because he had _tried to leave and it went awry._

So naturally, plagued by his bad conscience about what he had done to the twins (they had assured him they were happy as it were, _but still_ , friends don't let friends sacrifice themselves) and a new kind of distrust in the friendship of his butler (he had trusted Groanin, he had valued his work and his company, difficult as he was, but still he had tried to leave him), he couldn't help but ask himself how he deserved such bad luck with people. He knew he wasn't always the easiest person to be around, as he had dedicated every aspect of his life to fighting the good fight, he knew he was considered a little weird, but still. What was so wrong with him that he couldn't maintain a single stable relationship to anyone?

And now he was even losing his djinn powers. Not all at once, fortunately, but he could feel them slowly draining. From here on, things would be a downward spiral, until he was almost all out, like Mr. Rakshasas had been. He was getting old. He was getting old, and maybe he had overdone it. Saving the world so many times, almost in a row. It wasn't like him to brood over bad thoughts or wallow in self-pity, but somehow he felt like he had worked so hard, and gotten next to nothing in return. Apart from a not destroyed world, that is.

So here they were. Nimrod was trying to read, but he kept nodding off. The TV was running. Normally Nimrod would not permit such atrocity in his house, but Groanin wanted to watch the news, and Nimrod was too dozy to even argue. He hadn't even noticed he had fallen asleep as he woke up to the late night news. Groanin wasn't in the room, he'd probably left to make tea or something. Right now, the news anchor was saying: "XIAN, CHINA – a spontaneous explosion has taken the lives of ten scientists on an exploration on the site of the grave of ancient Chinese emperor Qin. The scientists were apparently trying to break open two hollow statues made of jade and gold that were discovered weeks prior. Spokespeople quote that it was a case of spontaneous combustion probably caused by sulfurous gases emitting from the-"

Nimrod turned the TV off. "Spontaneous combustion, _right_ " he muttered. This meant trouble. He should probably jump into action. But alas, his jumping days were coming to an end. He felt like the world owed him at least a short break. He had saved it so many times already. Couldn't someone else please take care of this? He was so tired...

But this night had another surprise in store for him. And what it sure didn't plan for was an awful lot of sleeping.

The next thing Nimrod knew was, he was still on the couch, feeling a bit frazzled and confused as to what had woken him up. Until he heard it again. Someone was ringing the doorbell. In the middle of the night.

With the foreboding feeling that he shouldn't wake Groanin over this, he went to the door himself, opened it a bit and looked out into the cool night.

Standing there was none other than Iblis, not the mundane body he had last possessed, but _the devil his own self_. _Naturally_ , Nimrod thought, a quiet thought amidst a wave of welling up fear, _first thing that vain Ifrit would do, get his original body back. With improvements, probably._

He couldn't help but think: _This is so unfair. All I asked for was a small break. And now, as everything finally looks quiet, that gosh-darn Ifrit has to resurrect and saunter back into my life._

Except that Iblis didn't _saunter_. Not at all. In fact, he was almost hunched over, leaning heavily against the wall. He looked...bad. Like he could bend double, collapse or just puke on Nimrod's shoes any given moment. He also _reeked_ of stale alcohol, but that wasn't the only thing that was wrong. Tiny beads of sweat covered his face, and he seemed to have trouble breathing right. So Nimrod's second reaction – the first one being the aforementioned panic – was to gasp: "Oh God, what's wrong?"

Iblis looked up at him, although he seemed to have trouble focusing. His eyes were like dark holes in his ashen face, the pupils small black spots within two irises that were so light brown they almost couldn't _not_ be mistaken for snake-yellow. A few strands of tangled hair fell into his face.

"Nimrod" he rasped. "I – I might need some help."

The appropriate reaction to this situation would have probably contained words like "awe" and "repulse", after all this _was_ the most evil djinn in the world, severely weakened and asking for assistance, but Nimrod's only thought was: _He called me Nimrod. Not the usual, snarky 'Marid', but the actual name. Iblis doesn't do that. He only uses my name in extreme distress_ , closely followed by _He came back._

He ushered the old enemy inside, taking a hold of his hand to steady him. It was ice cold.

Iblis was probably at his wit's end to come to him for help, but here he was, and all Nimrod could see right now was someone who had left him _to come back_. It was the first time that someone came back.

"Look, you might collapse on me any minute now" he said. "I'm telling Groanin about you tomorrow. You'll share my bed for the time being. Don't even think about arguing. I'd rather keep you where I can see you."

Now Nimrod knew fairly well that Iblis was just about as threatening as a newborn duckling with a concussion right now. But he would be damned a thousand times over if he woke up tomorrow with him gone without so much as a thank-you. So he added: "And whatever you do, _don't leave_."


	15. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set between book one and two, I always found it so cute that Nimrod tried to vouch for Iblis so that he won't be sent to Venus, like, this is the ultimate proof of what a good person Nimrod is! But seriously, what is the djinn legal system even o.O And also, did you notice how at the end of book two Iblis starts his threat letter with "My dear Nimrod"? This ship sails itself ;)

The night before Iblis is trialed, Nimrod has a nightmare.

* * *

 

The cell is tiny and has a potent djinn-binding cast upon it by Ayesha herself to prevent any escaping. Iblis isn't doing anything much in there, just turning his thumbs and waiting. Nimrod opens the door, his throat feeling constricted. As he steps in, his enemy looks up.

"Marid, you? What are you here for?" he asks, standing up.

"Ayesha's passed her sentence" Nimrod forces out past the lump in his throat. "She-"he clears his throat. "I'm sorry. She sentenced you to death."

"God dammit" Iblis says, exhaling shakily, but nothing more.

Now Nimrod confesses what, to him, is the hardest part: "She wants me to do it."

"Good" Iblis says calmly. "I'd like that best, if you do it."

But Iblis will not swallow a stupid diminuendo. This is just the two of them, up close and personal. Like both of them know it must be done. Nimrod dislikes this, but Iblis requested. His last request, actually. "You owe me that much" he said. "Get your hands dirty for once."

But these words, spoken in a hateful sneer, are not his real last request. He makes that when Nimrod backs him up against the wall and puts his hands around his neck, and it's barely a whisper: "Please be quick."

Nimrod nods, and promises "I will" through gritted teeth as he starts to press, his thumbs digging into the Ifrit's soft throat. He has never done this before, but it's startlingly easy. Just apply pressure until he chokes, that's it, that's all it takes.

Seconds drag by painfully slowly, and it's not long until Iblis turns his head up and starts making high-pitched, painful sounds as Nimrod is cutting his breath supply. He looks his arch-enemy in the face and sees wetness there, and lips that form the word _please_. He's scared, he's trapped, he's all alone, and of course he doesn't want to die. "Ssssh, sssh, it's alright" Nimrod whispers, trying – in vain – to keep his voice from breaking, "It'll be over real soon, it will all be over in a minute, it's alright, I'm here, I'm here."

Somewhere along there, he started to cry, as tears are now dropping from his chin. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on just pressing, blindly, as if there wasn't an actual person there, connected to him by a strange, long-lasting frienemyship, that he is now actively choking the life out of. But behind his closed eyelids, he remembers, all the years of fighting, and sometimes even not fighting Iblis, a morbid slideshow with one of these sad songs by Bruce Springsteen playing in the background. He remembers the young man he met almost a century ago (it was his Taranushi journey), beardless and without that constant worry crease to his eyebrows, a boy who laughed entirely too much to mask the confusion he was feeling. He remembers them growing up, as enemies, but still somehow alongside each other, and how sometimes, in the small hours of night, he used to think a little too much about the taste of these lips that are just now begging him _please_. He remembers the things he never said, that he will never say.

As Iblis grows still under his hands, he looks at his face one last time, and he's sure these breaking eyes will haunt him forever.

* * *

 

He wakes up drenched in cold sweat. A nightmare. But such a vivid one... No, it was silly. Silly and unrealistic. He would never _kill_ anybody with his _hands_. Not Iblis. Not anyone.

As he gets up, he decides to talk to Ayesha in favor of Iblis once more.

* * *

 

Nimrod can't help it, he's angry at the blue djinn. _Mother would have understood_ , he keeps thinking, but that woman is not his mother. So, his thoughts clouded by helpless anger, he arrives at the cell.

The cell is tiny and has a potent djinn-binding cast upon it by Ayesha herself to prevent any escaping. Iblis isn't doing anything much in there, just turning his thumbs and waiting. Nimrod opens the door, his throat feeling constricted; this is eerily similar to the scene in his dream. With one key difference.

As he steps in, Iblis looks up.

"Marid, you?"

"Yes, me. I'm here to inform you. Ayesha's passed her sentence."

"And?"

"Well, she's sending you, in the bottle, to a place where there's no escaping for the next ten years."

"And what might that wondrous place be?"

Nimrod clears his throat. "You're going with that European space shuttle to planet Venus. Sorry."

"God dammit."

"Heads up, it's not like she's going to kill you" Nimrod says, smiling forcedly. "It's not...that...bad..." Here he pauses, because it is actually _that bad_ , and the fact that he can dream up a worse alternative doesn't really matter.

"Nothing anyone can do?" Iblis asks, and Nimrod recognizes the veiled request for help. "I'm afraid it's once and for all this time", he replies, shaking his head. "The blue djinn has spoken."

Anger about Ayesha's attitude fills his mind once more, and as he hears Iblis mutter "the old bitch", he almost agrees. And then Iblis adds "Oops, sorry. Forgot she's your mom there for a second."

"I wish I could" Nimrod sighs.

" _However_ , holding a trial without the defendant even present...? That's what I call a _shitty_ trial. But you tried to sway things for me and...uhm...thanks." Iblis frowns, apparently disgusted with himself, then spits on the floor, as if saying thank you left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You really wish you weren't here, huh?" Nimrod says.

"Well I don't want to go to Venus. Duh."

Nimrod looks at him, and makes possibly one of the worst decisions in his whole entire life.

* * *

 

Later. Nimrod is at a gas station, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, buying a gallon of gas. He'll need it. If he is to run from his all-seeing mother, he'd better run far. He also buys cigarettes. Marlboros. Not the cigars he usually smokes.

"Keep the change" he mutters to the cashier lady and heads to the car. His Rolls-Royce would have been just so not inconspicuous, so he has taken to a plain gray Mercedes. Now, of course he could always use djinn means of travel, but that would be what Ayesha probably expects him to do, plus, a large, pompous whirlwind would be foolishly easy to detect.

He sits back down in the driver seat and tosses the cigarettes to Iblis, who catches them and lights one. He hasn't talked much since they hit the road. He's probably just as tired as Nimrod. His suit looks crumpled due to him sleeping in it for the last several days (they both need new clothes, and soon), but at least he's alive. Alive and not on Venus. And that's more important to Nimrod than he ever thought it would be.

They drive in silence for a few more hours. Bruce Springsteen is playing on the radio. Eventually Iblis speaks up.

"Maybe you should let me drive for a bit."

"You're not touching that steering wheel until you get some sleep. May I remind you that you drove through the whole of last night."

Some more silence. Then: "Marid?"

"I have a name, you know."

Iblis utters a long-suffering sigh. " _Nimrod Godwin whom I want to ask a question_?"

"Yes?"

"Why?"

Now Nimrod sighs. "Because you were right. It _was_ a bad trial. Because the system _is_ haphazard. Because an entire society's legal system should not solely consist of the decision of one old lady who is losing her touch."

"But you could have just-"Iblis starts, but Nimrod silences him.

"Because nothing I or anyone else could say would change a thing. Because she was my mother and I was angry. And...and because it's you."

"What do you mean, because it's me?" Iblis frowns and furrows his brows. There it is, that little sharp crease between them, the one he even dreamt about. Under normal circumstances, he would never do this, but they're both on the run now and he's feeling a strange kind of floating feeling in his head from lack of sleep, so he spontaneously reaches over and brushes his thumb against his... frienemy's face. "Don't" he says softly. "You'll only get wrinkles."

"Focus on the road, Marid" Iblis snaps and turns his head away.

"I really wish you would use my actual name."

"I really wish you weren't here, _Marid_."

"Oh, come on" Nimrod huffs. "Am I really no more to you than the tribe I belong to? I have freed you, at great personal expense I might add. And this is how you thank me?"

Iblis doesn't look at Nimrod as he answers: "If this were just me, it'd be okay. But you? You have no business here, with me. You know, you're probably the first Marid to go rogue. Look, I have destroyed many things that might have been good, and killed many people that might have been good also. But never before have I – or anyone else of my lot for that matter – ever corrupted a Marid. You think you can escape forever? Do you even have a plan? I mean, where are you even going? As it is, I'm not too worried about my own downfall. But now I'll drag you down with me, and frankly, I'm a bit ashamed."

"Please, Iblis, don't be so pessimistic. Nobody's going down" Nimrod chides, but he can't help smiling. "And now I wholeheartedly know I've made the right decision." And then – not before checking if the road is safe – he leans forward and pecks a tiny kiss on the Ifrit's forehead. He expects protest, but apart from a level, hard-to-read stare, he gets nothing.

"Get some sleep" he advises. "You don't sound like your evil self at all."

Iblis brushes it off, but the situation loses a lot of tension after that.

And yet some time later...

"Are you honestly telling me you've been driving below the speed limit that whole time? Who on _earth_ worries about the speed limit?!"

"Now I'm definitely not letting you touch that steering wheel again, ever. Really, where the heck did you get your license?"

"What license?"

"Seriously...?"

"I don't know what you want. Car drives with gas, not with _license_..."

 


	16. Users Guide & Manual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day I decided to revive the Users Guide & Manual meme.

_**Iblis Teer – the user's guide and manual** _

_**Congratulations!** _

_**You are now the proud owner of an IBLIS TEER unit!** _

For a fun and trouble-free experience, follow the guidelines in this manual, and your IBLIS will give you literally a lifetime of quality performance.

**SPECIFICATIONS:**

Name: Iblis Teer

Race: djinn

Tribe: Ifrit

Status: tribal leader, most evil djinn in the world

Home: Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

Birthplace: London, GB

Manufacturer: Philip B. Kerr

Height: 6 ft

Weight and Length: _data classified_

Hair: blonde

Eyes: hazel or blue

**ACCESSORIES**

IBLIS units are delivered fully dressed in a brand name tailored suit and handmade snake leather shoes, cane optional. Since he is made to be very heat-friendly, it is not necessary to remove any clothing (go ahead and do so anyway if you want to. I'm a manual, not a cop).

**OPERATING INSTRUCTIONS**

Your IBLIS unit is designed to be user-friendly and proficient. His controls are voice-activated. State your commands clearly (in English), but be sure to stay polite. Even villains are deserving of respect.

Remember that your IBLIS can do more than just look intimidating, he has multiple functions.

_Djinn powers_

Your IBLIS comes with a complete set of djinn powers that can be used to achieve almost literally anything. Apart from bringing people back from the dead, or granting more than three wishes at once, there's almost nothing your IBLIS unit can't do. However, due to his being evil, he will rather enjoy using his powers for malevolent purposes. So if there's anyone you'd like to get rid of, or anything you want to be destroyed, you can count on him doing quality work. If you'd rather like a friendly powerful djinn, you might want to purchase the NIMROD unit instead. To be the complete master over your unit's djinn powers, you may also purchase a djinn-binding-set (sold separately) for maximum control and safety.

_Profound knowledge of many things_

Your IBLIS unit is a smart devil. Not only will he hatch the most intricate plans to take over the world, he also speaks multiple languages and is a bit of an expert in the field of pretty much all the science and, of course, the victory of mind over matter. Talk about handy!

_Survival skills_

All djinn units are, due to their powers and mind-control-techniques, pretty much unbreakable. Your IBLIS unit will not only last double the lifespan of a human, he'll also survive extreme exposures to cold, fire or hungry tigers. Even if the unit's body is fatally damaged, he comes with the ability to simply extract his mind from the body and insert it into another. You can even put him in a bottle and carry him around with you! Please just make sure you always do that with the IBLIS unit's consent, as he will react to forced confinement with extreme violence. This particular unit's only weakspots are his own hubris and jade armors.

**CLEANING**

Your IBLIS unit is at all times fully functional to take care of himself. He may sometimes forget to, but that's just due to the fact that he's a lazy piece of ass. Remind him to take the occasional shower! Should he blatantly refuse to, try appalling to his enormous ego. Tell him you want him to look perfect at all times! If that doesn't work, offer to go in with him. He'll most likely go for that.

**RECHARGING AND STORAGE**

Refueling is not a big deal with your IBLIS unit. Quite different from the rather picky GROANIN unit, your IBLIS unit is a djinn, and djinn will eat _anything_. You may allow the IBLIS unit _small doses_ of alcohol from time to time, but be sure to not make it a habit.

Your IBLIS enjoys sleeping binges that may result in shut-downs to last up to several weeks. Don't be afraid to use force to get his lazy ass out of bed! The IBLIS unit might demand that he requires a king-sized bed for maximum storage safety. THAT IS A LIE. There is no need for you to take everything your IBLIS says seriously. He's perfectly fine with your couch. You may even store him in your bed, if you trust him to not try anything evil or inappropriate while you sleep (and that's a big if). Sleeping djinn units emit warmth and sometimes even a soft purring noise. Enjoy!

**COMPATIBILITY WITH OTHER UNITS**

Even though your IBLIS unit likes his solitude, too much of it will result in minor maintenance errors. He is compatible with most other units from the IFRIT line. Should you wish to purchase one of those, we offer a wide variety of models for you to pick your favorite villain. The IBLIS unit seems to favor the RUDYARD unit, which will work best when set in Adoring Son mode. He will then simply praise and imitate the IBLIS unit in everything he does.

The IBLIS unit will automatically engage in Hostile mode when confronted with a unit from the MARID line.

CAUTION: Do NOT purchase a DYBBUK unit if you already have an IBLIS unit. Due to an error in the DYBBUK unit's manufacturing, he and the IBLIS unit must be kept separated AT ALL TIMES to prevent both units from taking fatal damage.

**FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS**

**Q:** Will the IBLIS unit be compatible with my NIMROD unit?

**A:** Yes, but be careful. Be sure to not let them interact with each other while one or both are in Hostile mode. Our maintenance department has worked out a way to overcome compatibility issues between those two. It is called Shipping mode and produces some...interesting results. Alternatively, you can purchase a djinn binding set for each of them to neutralize their powers around each other.

**Q:** Can I take my IBLIS unit out in public? What about vacations?

**A:** You can! Your IBLIS unit is pretty good at maintaining a low profile and, apart from the odd adoring glance from females, will not attract too much unwanted attention. It is advised for you to accompany him wherever he goes to prevent him from causing trouble. Since leashes or handcuffs look weird in public, you should probably just hold his hand at all times for maximum safety.

CAUTION: You do not want to let your IBLIS unit go out alone. Also, do not lend him to unassuming friends who don't know what they're in for.

Your IBLIS unit generally enjoys vacations, but will react claustrophobic to planes. This is due to his specific djinn nature and cannot be fixed. Make him take a charcoal pill before the flight or alternatively let him take you to your destination by whirlwind or flying carpet. It's a highly enjoyable experience and generally recommended, but a very long flight will result in the exhaustion of your IBLIS unit. It is not advised to take him to cold places, as he dislikes the cold and will, at extreme exposure, go into Hibernation mode.

**Q:** Is the IBLIS unit safe around kids?

**A:** Yes! Due to having raised so many sons, the IBLIS unit is surprisingly good with children. You may leave him around your kids, just don't forget reminding him beforehand not to try and turn them to evil.

**TROUBLESHOOTING**

**Problem:** My IBLIS unit has disappeared. In his place I found a large Egyptian cobra which is currently trying to sit on my head.

**Solution:** Due to his djinn manufacture, your IBLIS unit comes with the ability to shapeshift and has now morphed into the snake. That is entirely harmless for him, in fact, units from the IFRIT line do that all the time. DO NOT PERMIT HIM TO SIT ON YOUR HEAD! Not only is your IBLIS unit now venomous (to humans AND djinn), he will also have your mind enslaved. He will eventually take on human form again, if not, you'll have to coerce him. The PHILIPPA unit has some useful advice for that one.

**Problem:** I think my IBLIS unit is trying to seduce me. I keep waking up at night with him standing eerily over me.

**Solution:** You didn't leave Shipping mode on with no other units around, did you?...Go for it, by all means, go for it! Or, if you're not into him, get the NIMROD unit.

**Problem:** My IBLIS unit keeps claiming that he chopped his wife to pieces with an axe. He wouldn't do that, would he?

**Solution:** You have accidentally purchased a JIRJIS unit. Since these two are both from our TWO-DIMENSIONAL VILLAIN-line of production, they are almost impossible to keep apart. If you kept your check, you can swap him for an IBLIS unit, which is far superior anyway. A HINT FOR THE UNASSUMING: Even though your IBLIS unit is a gentleman villain and would not take as brutal measures as chopping someone up with an axe, he, too, comes without any scruples whatsoever. If that repulses you, the IFRIT units might not be for you. We advise you to rather look into the MARID, JINN or JANN units.

**Problem:** My IBLIS unit wants to take over the planet.

**Solution:** We're afraid such urges are fixed in his programming. Why don't you give him something else to do? It is also crucial to not let him interact with other IFRIT units during that phase, especially not the RUDYARD unit. They'll only encourage him.

**Problem:** My IBLIS unit is destroying my stuff.

**Solution:** Oh-oh. You didn't tick your IBLIS unit off lately, did you? Like, confined him for a long time or else maltreated him? He reacts like that, you see. Please treat your IBLIS well – and if it's already too late for that, get help from the NIMROD unit. He's used to handling djinn tantrums.

Have fun, stay safe and remember: Always be careful what you wish for - you just might get it!


	17. Once Upon A Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a miracle that this is the first chapter out of all of these that got called "improbable" back in the day. Apparently they can be soulmates, but they can't meet in a grocery store. Huh.  
> We're starting to get to the Deep Ass Reflection part of the fic where I first started to pick djinn society apart and look at it with a critical eye and figure out why it is bullshit

Everything started with Nimrod's craving for ice cream.

It was a warm summer night and he couldn't sleep. His bedroom was stuffy and, frankly, all he wanted was to sit down on his balcony with some ice cream and watch the hours tick by. Warm nights like this one always made him restless. There was but one problem: he had no ice cream.

Now he didn't want to waste djinn powers on something so trivial, and he didn't want to wake Groanin, so he just threw on yesterday's clothes and headed to the next store yawning. Thank goodness Tesco's was still open.

* * *

He was making his way to the freezers through the candies section when he almost bumped into some other half-asleep midnight shopper. "Excuse you" the guy said, with his back to him, in a kind of automatic, tired mutter that had no real anger to it, grabbed a Snickers bar and off he went. Nimrod, suddenly a lot more awake, turned around and stared after him. _I know that voice_ , he thought, _I know that disheveled crop of hair..._

At the same time he had that thought, the other person went completely still, as if thinking the same thing, then he turned.

"Nimrod?"

_"Iblis?"_

"Uh, hi..."

Nimrod tensed. He had to do anything and everything to avoid a fight now. They couldn't have a djinn duel in a grocery store in the middle of the night. There were humans around he needed to protect. Even though Iblis did not look very... threatening right now. He had the air of just-fallen-out-of-bed about him and was spectacularly dressed down (some pretty threadbare Converse with what looked like his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that said "Fuck Calm and Kill Everyone"). To be brief, he looked a mess, but Nimrod supposed he wasn't quite better, with yesterday's red fluffy sweater (that said I LOVE CATS for some strange reason) and his hair sticking up in _every_ direction.

"It's a pleasure meeting you here, I would say, if it _was_ actually a pleasure" he addressed the enemy. "What bad wind blew you here? I didn't know you were even in the country."

"Well, I am. I blew myself... wait, that sounds wrong."

"Any evil plans in the city?"

"No. I moved over to London because I figured Las Vegas was not exactly a healthy environment to raise my boys."

"That... sounds sensible, actually." Nimrod was a bit surprised. He hadn't thought Iblis so considerate of his kids.

Iblis made a face, like he read Nimrod's reaction but chose to ignore it. "So, what are you doing here this fine night?"

"Are you familiar with those nights where you wake up and feel that silly craving for ice cream? Also, I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh, I'm getting some ingredients. I am making a cookie pie."

Nimrod glanced at his watch. "At two a.m."

" _No_ " Iblis grinned. "Just kidding. Actually I'm just stocking up on booze and diapers."

"Interesting combination..."

"My kids are ruining me, Marid" Iblis sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Honest to God ruining me. I haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks. Rudyard's getting his baby teeth, Jonathon's down with the flu, and my dear older ones aren't moving their lazy asses one bit to help out. _But_ they hang around the place because they don't know where the fuck else to go or their respective girlfriends kicked them out of their apartment. I have to work a small miracle each day just to keep everyone fed. I haven't gotten anything evil done in an eternity."

"That's good for the rest of the world, I guess. But, I have to ask, if your kids are so much trouble, why did you even get so many?"

Iblis made another face, confused this time. "See, this is where we drift apart. You'll probably never reproduce –thank God, not like the world needs a Nimrod Godwin spawn – and you'll never _get_ being a father, and, family and stuff. I may be malevolent scum with the morale of a rat, but, y'know, family... it's important."

"You _like_ children?"

"Not raw. There's nothing wrong with _my_ kids. Also, I've gotten used to... you see, pretty much the entire Ifrit tribe consists of my children. Metaphorically, of course, no need to look so shocked. They can't get _anything_ done by themselves. They're like a bunch of evil five-year-olds, really. From what I saw of you guys, the Marid appear pretty self-governing... not so with my guys. It's always Iblis this and Iblis that... it's like I'm the den mother or something, whatever. This might sound like nonsense to you, but as I said, I'm awfully sleep-deprived."

"I really don't get you. Infants are disgusting."

"So you think. Well, Marid, what now? Do we fight or what?"

Nimrod looked around the brightly-lit store. There were a few people around, salespersons and some scattered night owls. A repetitive pop song was playing in the background.

"Or what?" he suggested.

For a second, the situation had something terribly fragile to it. Nimrod could almost feel the balance of all luck in the world hanging in the air between two almost infinitely powerful, incredibly sleepy djinn.

Then Iblis blinked, yawned and said: "You know, ice cream actually sounds like one of your brighter ideas. I think I'm getting some too. But first..." and here he suddenly tucked an arm under Nimrod's, "Accompany me to the spirits section."

Nimrod stood stock still, feeling his face slowly go a faint shade of pink. "Iblis, I'll happily go with you, if only to prevent you from wreaking havoc or tormenting the poor salespeople. But stop doing that. People will assume... certain things."

"Oh-oh. And what things would that be?" Iblis asked with a wink and a grin that one could just describe as lewd.

"They'll take us for a gay couple!" Nimrod snapped.

"Oh, c'mon, Marid, there's next to no one here, and besides, it's a tolerant world, right? No need to be so stuck up. Also, freudian slip much? You didn't say _mis_ take. Now get moving, I want to be finished by dawn."

Thus Nimrod followed his arch-enemy, as it was, to the spirits section. Iblis clearly knew his way around, and what he wanted. Nimrod, who didn't really touch alcohol save for the occasional glass of wine after dinner, could only watch and click his tongue in slight dismal.

"You know, if we were actually friends, I would now voice my worries about your drinking habits."

"You obviously manage just fine without us being friends. Anyway I'll not discuss this with you, ever. Drinking alone is my only socially acceptable way to vent; crudely speaking it's this or killing sprees. You make up your mind about what you rather want."

Nimrod did not want killing sprees. Especially not in London. So he kept his mouth shut.

Things didn't get any easier with the ice cream. Nothing was ever easy with Iblis. If Nimrod had had a plan at all, it was just to grab the first thing that looked chocolate-related and call it a night. But Iblis insisted he was being boring.

"C'mon, Marid, don't tell me you haven't ever tried these. You have to have. Or else you haven't really _lived_. Did you know that Ben  & Jerry's unofficial slogan is "Eat away your feelings"? Let some excitement into your life, for hell's sake."

"I have enough excitement with you" Nimrod muttered and studied the... things his enemy was going on about. "Chocolate fudge brownies? Strawberry cheesecake? Peanut butter cup? Cookie dough? Whoever makes cookie dough ice cream? What kind of flavor is that even? And what on earth is a caramel-sutra?" He ignored the barely-suppressed chuckle from the Ifrit's direction.

"I don't know about you, but I'll have some."

"Of course you will." Nimrod took a deep breath. "When we were young, ice cream came in three flavors: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. Lemon if you were very lucky. But _cookie dough_ – this madness will come at a price, Iblis."

"It's five fifty."

" _It is immoral_."

Iblis yawned again and leaned against the freezer. "Are you quite finished?"

Nimrod paused. Thought. Hesitated. Then he exhaled sharply and hissed "Fine. I'll try it. Serpent."

"That didn't take much convincing..."

* * *

The rest of the trip went without further incidents ("Self checkout! Yup, I'm awesome." "You're a vile piece of evil."), Nimrod made sure that Iblis was actually paying for what he bought. They ended up in front of the store, just staring at each other for a while.

"Well, I can't say this hasn't been... interesting" Nimrod said.

"And actually kinda fun. I would invite you over to mine, but, y'know, I better not let you know where I'm at. Low profile and everything. Also, we wouldn't get a quiet moment. I've got quite the full house these days."

"Can I invite you over to my place instead? Since you already know where I'm located and it wouldn't do much harm. We could share the ice cream. You could stay the night, and-"

"What are you implying?" Iblis smirked.

" _Nothing_ " Nimrod said hurriedly. "I have a very quiet house. You could have a full night's sleep, you know."

Iblis looked a bit flustered. "You mean that? For me?"

"I'm all about helping out."

"Well, sounds nice and all, but no thanks. I really need to get home to the kids. No rest for the wicked, I suppose." In a blink of the eye, he came up to Nimrod and pecked a tiny little kiss on his cheek. "Gay couple, my foot" he said into his ear and chuckled. Then he disappeared into the night, leaving Nimrod embarrassed and a good deal confused.

Half an hour later, when Nimrod was sitting on his balcony enjoying the warm, quiet night, it turned out that cookie dough ice cream was the _best thing on earth_.

"Wretched villain" he said fondly.

* * *

Meanwhile, the wretched villain stepped into his living room, finding a pile (yes, there's _that many of them_ ) of his sons sleeping on the couch. "What the actual-" he whispered.

That caused his second-oldest son Jared to emerge from under his little brothers. "Oh, hey dad" he said drowsily.

"Jared, what the actual" Iblis repeated.

"Well, dad, y'know, Jonny had a nightmare, so I sat down here with him, and Odair was still here bawling about Marcy, and then there was a kinda landslide."

"Oh" Iblis said. "You guys have some room?"

They had some room, and as he curled up between his sons, Iblis thought that he hadn't told Nimrod entirely everything of his views on family. _When you start out as an evil djinn_ , he could have told Nimrod, _you feel high and mighty and free and capable of doing everything ever completely alone. Depending on others seems weak and stupid, and friends only hold you back. But as the years pass, you start having second thoughts, and being alone becomes crushing, and then you're glad to have a big, needy family to occupy yourself with, a warm, loud family you can lean back into, that you can come home to with bloodstained hands and know they won't mind. Because they look up to you no matter what, and you're just their dad, not the most renowned evil djinn in the world, at least if you don't want to be for a while._

Sometimes Iblis thought his sons were the only thing that kept him sane at all.


	18. Ohana, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to just call all chapters about the Teer family "Ohana", because Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten... well, except for Dybbuk, we don't talk about Dybbuk.

The best feeling in the world is killing as many people as possible, at least if you ask Iblis Teer. He would never tell you that, but with ending the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of people at once in a giant earthquake or something like that comes a giant, heated wave of absolute power that probably feels like a combination of an orgasm and a crack cocaine high ( _probably_ because Iblis stays away from drugs. He doesn't need them). He knows that all of his victims have families, homes, thoughts and dreams as complex as his own. But that doesn't hold him back, if anything, it elates him even more because yes, every human is a unique kind of being, a piece of universe, a flame that, if killed, can never shine again, and _he has power over them_. With a single flick of his hand, a brief concentration of his will, he can blow away so many of them. Compared to him, they are so vulnerable. Killing is beautiful, killing is easy, and those without scruples are the kings of the world. Regrets? What for?

What Iblis also feels no need for are other people. Like friends. Or family.

_Friends_ – the word makes him think of Nimrod and his ever-persistent attempt to...whatever the stupid Marid is attempting these days. It boils down to bringing good luck to some irrelevant mundanes and trying to stop Iblis from doing what he loves – and that is pointlessly destroying stuff. According to Nimrod, he needs help, but Iblis knows that is not true. He doesn't need his friendship, or anyone else's.

_Family_? There's no one there but his father, whom the blue djinn had bottled up years ago as punishment for destroying an entire island in a giant rage fit. It's better that way. Iblis senior has been an inefficient leader to say the least, and whenever Iblis _junior_ thinks of him, it is with passionate hate. And his mother? She is long gone because...well, better not think about it. Because if he thinks about it, he's suddenly seven years old and hiding in the wardrobe all over again, watching as...

_Mother? Mother! Why is she not breathing? What have you done to her?!_

_Aww, look at him. Cries and wants his mommy. That's no son of mine..._

No, shut up, _bad thoughts._

* * *

 

But, well, djinn are known to get quite old, and the years bring sobriety, and a kind of routine. Iblis is intelligent, and he can't fail to notice that all he is doing, in the long run, is wasting all his djinn powers on chasing the high, that he's dependent on that feeling of power that comes with doing evil deeds. Like a mundane drug addict, who wastes all his money and ruins his life for more heroin. He used to have nothing but contempt for people like that. But now he has to admit he's basically one of them. And for what? Destroying things? People rebuild.

His thoughts go out to Nimrod again. He'll be wasting his djinn powers too, but for a good cause. Nimrod has a purpose. Iblis has none. Also, people are after him, many of them with a vengeance, and a life on the run is not exactly fun. Actually it gets kind of lonely.

He realizes it's not only him, but his whole tribe too – all purposeless, but too proud to admit it. And that also goes for the Shaitan and the Ghul. Many of them are like him, aware of their situation, but with no way out. They are evil. That is the law. They are living with it, somehow. Not all are, though. If anyone ever did a census study on djinn society, they would probably find out that the Ifrit has the highest suicide rate of all the tribes, but such things are not done here. Iblis, sitting on top of the dung heap as the leader, briefly wishes he could change things, but that is utterly impossible.

Of course he continues doing what he does, and earns a fearsome reputation for it. The most evil djinn in the world, they call him...Iblis didn't even know being evil was a contest. But it gets people to leave him alone out of fear, so he sticks to the title. And it's true; he has done some pretty horrible things. He doesn't even know what he does them _for_ anymore, but...who cares?

His stunts are getting more and more reckless. Sometimes he feels like he's just biding his time until the Marid decide he's too much of a strain on the homeostasis, and hunt him and put him down for good. He may have a bit of a death wish, so what?

* * *

 

But then an Ifrit woman dies, and three-year-old Odair Teer is placed in the extremely reluctant custody of his father.

* * *

 

When Iblis hears he has a child somewhere out there, and that he now has to take care of it, his first thought is _God, what a nuisance._ But then he meets the boy and...just...

Odair has inherited his mother's dark-brown hair, but the rest of his face is so totally Iblis that it hurts. He has the nose, the mouth, the dark-ish complexion, and when he looks up to his father with eyes that are just like his, it feels like a sudden punch to the gut.

They are wary around each other at first, but, well, after Odair (or Mini-Me, as Iblis quietly calls him) has gone to bed, Iblis is left in a very thoughtful mood. He thinks about how he is the only thing on earth that kid has left. If he were to die, Odair Teer would be an orphan.

He doesn't know how to raise a child without making everything a horrible mess. Making horrible messes is what he's good at. But still, somehow, the responsibility for this his son lies with him and no one but him, and maybe he should try making something good this time.

He can't get to sleep that night. It may be due to the fact that he gets up every two hours and sneaks into the second bedroom to check if Mini-Me – excuse me, _Odair_ – is breathing right.

He really does try his best, and something good does come out of it. Iblis notes how Odair, without even knowing it, helps him stay grounded. He'll not go overboard and try to kill himself or everyone around him, because _there's that child now I have to take care of_. Maybe that's the sense of _purpose_ that Iblis was looking for. If he can do no good as a djinn, he might at least try as a father. Life gets more peaceful. Mini-me likes cinnamon buns. It's alright. And the first time that Odair throws his little arms around his father totally out of the blue and says "I lub you, daddy" in a sickeningly adorable lisp, a hypothetical watcher would have almost _seen_ the question marks appearing over Iblis's head.

So when, a few years later, another son – named Jared – is born, and the mother tries to start a fight about who has to take custody, Iblis is all too quick to say "Don't worry, I'll take him in, no trouble at all".

* * *

 

Things take a turn for the worse very suddenly when Odair gets his wisdom teeth. Iblis never really thought about it – he pointedly avoided thinking about it – but he will have to teach Odair the ways of the djinn, and Odair will have to be evil. He knows he has been selfish – Odair is his oldest son, and, unless Iblis gets a daughter somewhere along the way, he will inherit his position – he'll be the future Ifrit leader. Actually, he should have been preparing him for his role in the djinn society starting right from childhood, like his father has done with him – but better, without the yelling and hitting and worse – but that somehow always was put off until later. Now there is no _later_.

The thing is, they have been talking about djinn stuff...maybe not that extensively...um...it has been mentioned sometime, surely. But until now, Odair or his other sons (there's four of them now. Sometimes he thinks he should keep it in his pants) have been oblivious to what Iblis really _does_. _Daddy is the most evil djinn in the world and kills people without reason_? Is that a thing you tell your kids?

Maybe it should be. But Iblis is a _selfish, greedy person_. His fast-growing family is his safe haven, and he has enjoyed being just their dad, no one else, and definitely no one evil to them...but he can't shield them forever.

So he sends his son out into the desert for his Tammuz, knowing that he'll soon have to explain to him everything he always swept under the rug, and dreading it. Because he'll have to teach Odair, and eventually the others, not only how to handle their djinn powers, but to become evil, rotten people too, and he feels like he is tainting something good and innocent and by all rights, someone should come and take the kids away from him. He should definitely not be doing this.

_But Iblis is a selfish, greedy person_. So he does it, to all of them, time and time again.

Years go by. Whenever one of his sons says he wants to be like daddy when he grows up, Iblis cringes a little inside. _Oh, you want to be a vile-minded good-for-nothing trainwreck person who managed to drive his whole life against the wall? I admire your life choices, kid._

But he forces a smile and says nothing. He likes the feeling of his sons looking up to him, even though they _totally shouldn't_. Of course the boys don't stay small forever. They grow up, they integrate into djinn society. They are evil, and they are having fun. Being free to do every mean thing other people can only dream of is fun to some extent. When he was young, Iblis had fun too. _You will learn, boys,_ he thinks bitterly as he watches them. _Oh how you will learn._

* * *

One night, a teenaged Odair calls Iblis on the phone. "Dad, I might have killed someone" he says frantically.

Iblis sighs. That's how it starts. "How many someones?" he asks.

"Just one person, dad. He...he was talking shi...I mean he said some very mean things and I, I just got angry and the next moment..."

"Uh huh. If I may ask, how did killing the person feel?"

"What? Uh, it felt...good" Odair whispers in an ashamed little voice. "But now I'm not so sure..." He pauses. Iblis hears a gagging sound.

"It's alright, son. I was in a similar situation when I was your age. Just stay calm, try not to throw up, tell me where you are and I'll be right there. Hide the body with a diminuendo. You know how to do that?"

"Yes dad" Odair says timidly, and then: "Thank you, dad."

"Don't thank me, boy." _Curse me_ , Iblis wants to add. _I am the only reason you kill. And this'll not be the last time, not by far._

* * *

 

By the time John and Philippa are born, Iblis has a grand total of eight sons, minus Dybbuk, _we don't talk about Dybbuk._ Actually, when Dybbuk is born – again, for no other reason than because _Iblis is a selfish, greedy person_ and when he sees a woman he wants, he _takes her_ – Iblis thinks: _A half-tribe, huh? Maybe this one has a chance._

And he hopes against his better judgment that his youngest son is smart enough to stay far, far away from him.

Well, Dybbuk comes to Las Vegas eventually, and Iblis lures him into his evil scheme, because how couldn't he? This is his _master plan_. He can't back out of it just because that boy happens to be his offspring. And what's the harm? Dybbuk will be ignorant to the evil he helps do. He'll be famous as Jonathan Tarot for a while, that'll be fun, right? And when his plan succeeds and things topple over, the boy can just run back home to his mom. Nothing...bad will happen. At least not to Dybbuk.

Iblis didn't calculate for Dybbuk to lose his djinn powers, and the chain of truly bad things this will set off. When he looks death in the eyes, it's one of the few things he honestly regrets.

But maybe it's a good thing that Iblis didn't live to see what Dybbuk did in Paititi. Because Iblis has seen many sons turn to evil. Would he really enjoy seeing another one?


	19. Iblis Goes To Woodstock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'd gone to a festival and wanted to write about festivals. Also it's strange to think how Nimrod and Iblis saw all these subcultures spread and fade. Although that's probably not really what they were interested in...

Once upon a time, in a very remote past, when the djinn still dwelled in the hot desert hearts of Africa and Asia, they were aware of the great, universal power of music. Djinn were great singers and dancers, because they knew the right songs, certain rhythms coupled with djinn power, unleashed a gravitational pull that could influence the goings of the universe in ways that no other force could. With that knowledge came the ability to perform ancient rituals so powerful, some might say they best stay forgotten (one of them, by the way, is known as the dervish dance).

As time went, the six tribes formed and a war broke loose, the good djinn settled in stranger, cooler lands and adapted different cultures, which made them forget things they had once known. So, strangely, it is the evil tribes, who are not held back by chastity or manners, where some of the knowledge of the raw power of music lives on.

* * *

 

Iblis is young and he doesn't know better.

Wait, that's not quite right. It's the year 1969, and Iblis has been around for a while. He's just not quite _that_ experienced in the business of evil yet, and he's still filled with a kind of unholy zeal. So he visits the Woodstock festival, which will later become the most famous event connected with the hippie subculture, and also a milestone of rock history, but not with the intent to have a good time or celebrate peace and love. No, he goes there in the attempt to sabotage Woodstock. Although he can find no Marid influence behind the organization of the festival, the whole hippie movement looks and sounds like something _specially invented_ to annoy him, and it fills him with a vague anger. So, just because he's so peeved and it would be a neat thing to see all these flower-power freaks so unhappy, he heads to the town of Bethel, New York to spoil everyone's fun.

From the moment he arrives at the dairy farm in the Catskill Mountains, the venue where the festival is held, he sees that it'll be a tough nut.

He tries. He really does. He puts up an honest effort. He's also wearing a hippie outfit to blend in (That's pretty easy. Almost all males at the festival are sporting jeans and a bare upper body, so yeah. Not that difficult a costume). And at first it looks like he can easily topple this whole thing _over_. Everything is so poorly organized. Half of the artists are no-names, who jumped into the fray spontaneously, mostly as a substitute for other, more famous bands that couldn't make it (all part of the plan of course...Iblis _hates_ rock music). At first he tries one of his specialties – he leaves his body somewhere in a remote corner (not like another passed out body will rouse suspicion here) and floats around backstage in his astral body, taking possession of the mundanes there for seconds, leaving instructions, feelings and thoughts, inducing stage fright in insecure artists, making arguments break loose between band members, producers and managers. He makes singers forget their lines, he tries to sabotage sound engineering, he even messes with some of the bands' guitars. Never, not even under torture, would Iblis admit to his being able to tune a guitar (he's a _sophisticated British member of the gentry_ who listens to classical _only;_ he has _nothing_ to do with the roguish barbarian music that is rock and roll). Actually, he _can_ tune a guitar and even play it, but that's another shameful little secret that he tells no one.

The thing is, nothing he does has a lasting effect. It's a frustrating experience. Whatever problem he causes, the mundanes find a way around it. How? And why? Because they help each other. Because they seem to share a belief in something. They believe in their festival, in love and peace, in the will to pull it through together if only everyone joins in and does their best, so strongly that Iblis' malice cannot get past that. Some of them only believe in profit, sure, but they _believe,_ and they're stronger than him.

He had imagined it being so easy. Manipulating the masses is a thing he truly enjoys, normally. Many humans cramped together in a venue that was planned for a third of them, not enough room, no sufficient sanitation, looks like a recipe for violent disaster, right? But Iblis has underestimated the hippies. In his sensitive astral body, he picks up a large, benign aural field of harmony and love from the crowd that is strong enough by far to overcome all problems he causes. Compared to that, his evil spirit seems petty and tiny. The love is not directed at him, of course, so it doesn't influence, let alone sway him. It only serves to make him angrier.

So at last he returns to his body, focuses all his djinn power and sends a giant flood of rain and storm, thinking that this at last will discourage people from this goddamn festival.

It doesn't. It just makes everyone, including himself, wet.

* * *

 

And this is how Iblis ends up in the midst of a crazy mud orgy, soaking wet and bloody pissed, one of the very few people not in the horizontal, smoking a damp cigarette. He doesn't understand. There is rain, there is mud, there are horribly gross sanitary conditions, guitars are mistuned, sound systems are malfunctioning due to the bad weather, many bands are not doing all that well, there are interruptions, but still everyone's happy and everyone loves each other. Only Iblis is feeling considerably miffed. He is having the worst day ever.

Someone hands him a fresh cigarette. He turns around, surprised, to see a long-haired youth giving him the peace-sign, then disappearing into the crowd.

Djinn are natural smokers. Iblis shrugs and inhales and... _oops...that wasn't a cigarette..._

Suddenly all his senses seem more heightened, especially the one that djinn call the sixth sense. It's like he stepped out of his body – except that he's pretty sure he's still in it as he can feel it around him, if a bit numbly – and, back in astral form, becomes much more sensitive to things like auras, emanations...signals from the supernatural universe within our universe that most humans have no clue of. He also feels a bit panicked, because _that's not how you're supposed to react to light drugs_. At least it's not how _mundanes_ react to light drugs, but then again, the effects of marihuana exposure on djinn have not exactly been largely studied.

It feels like the walls that separated the festival and him have broken down, and he is no longer the odd one out. He can grasp and understand this giant aura field of love and become part of it. But he still can't manipulate. It's not the festival that's giving in to him. It's rather Iblis who surrenders.

And then the band on stage seems to have sorted their troubles out, as the drummer starts to pound a rhythm, and the lead guitarist evokes a shrill opening cord from his instrument, and then there's the undercurrent of a dark, powerful bass as the singer steps up to the microphone. Now the humans in their ecstasy are hooked on the music immediately, going wild. But the evil djinn amidst them suddenly remembers every shred of knowledge that his tribe used to preserve about the raw, ancient and utterly beautiful power of music, and he knows he's bloody screwed.

There is no resisting to the all-powerful pull of the music that absorbs everyone, sucks everyone in. There is no assembly of thousands of individual humans (and one djinn, or maybe another few) anymore, there is one giant entity called the crowd, or the mob, nobody thinks, everyone just loves everyone and everything around them with all their heart, and dances.

The weather doesn't matter. Nothing matters. When the band finishes playing, everyone screams for encores. There's a short moment of clarity, and then there is the next band.

Things get kind of hazy from there.

* * *

 

Some nondescript amount of time later, Iblis wakes up someplace with a headache, wearing nothing but a flower crown on his head and covered in dirt, which. _Fantastic._ All around him, their bodies intertwined with his, are a bunch of flower power girls and also guys. The memories of what happened before are vague at best, but it's pretty clear that his past self had the time of his life, that bastard. Present self Iblis feels furious as well as embarrassed about all this, also he now has to doubt his heterosexuality. He starts searching for a pair of pants, preferably his own. After he finds one, he goes home and never mentions Woodstock again. But for the rest of his very life, to the day of his death, whenever he hears Jimi Hendrix on the radio, he'll unconsciously start humming and tapping his feet, only to then get violently angry and destroy stuff.

But the idea of manipulating people through music gets carefully filed away under "may be useful sometime" and many years later will become an integral part of something labeled " _Cause-an-Enantodromian-binding-master-plan (this will totally work). Guaranteed to mess shit up! Evil plan by Iblis"._

 


	20. Scribbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I tell you I was gonna get deep? I lied. Let me tell you about my scribbles.  
> All the CotL books I own are filled with scribbled comments of yours truly. As I reread the books over and over for years, the scribbles tell a sometimes embarrassing story of my maturing. The only book I have not written into yet is 7. I find it hard to comment on 7 because I find it kind of meh.  
> So today I will transcribe my comments into actual parody for your amusement (at least I hope it is amusing, since my sense of humor is kinda weird). Starting with book one. Note the *subtle* hints to the beginnings of my Nimlis ship.

Narrator: John and Philippa Gaunt were two totally ordinary teenagers.

11-year-old me: Hi, John and Philippa! I hope we'll have fun adventures together!

18-year-old me: Kid, you are doomed. Why did you buy this book?

Narrator: John and Philippa's dad was some rich guy. Their mother was a splendidly beautiful woman of splendid beauty and, um...glamour, yes, that's a nice descriptive word, and she could do everything ever, and everyone loved her. Therefore, every action she did had to be followed by the adverb "perfectly" and her every characteristic was "perfect" (perfect teeth, perfect skin, perfect hair, etc.). Yes, "perfect" is a totally legit way to describe an actual person.

11-year-old me: I haven't heard the term "Mary Sue" yet, but, gosh, Layla kind of sounds like one.

18-year-old me: I came to abhor the term "Mary Sue" because it's almost solely used to crush young artists' self-esteem, but...still. You had a point there, kiddo.

John and Philippa: *have wisdom teeth*

Wisdom teeth: *get removed*

Strange man: *appears in strange dream* Hey, twins! Come into my strange dream house!

John: Is he an angel?

Philippa: Is he the devil?

Man: *snaps* I'm your uncle Nimrod from London!

Me: Yeah, okay. Seems legit. After all, that's how I met my uncles too.

Nimrod: Alright, now I'll ask you guys to hug me like strange uncles turning up in dreams talking about a poem none of the child readers is going to know and other mysterious stuff is totally normal and you are obliged to hug me now, so hug please.

John and Philippa: *initiated hugging uncle*

11-yo-me: I want the strange uncle to go away

18-yo-me: Shhh. You're gonna like him.

11-yo-me: whAT

18-yo-me: It's an acquired taste.

Nimrod & twins: *play some dice*

Nimrod: *throws dices, hides them from view and makes a face*

18-yo-me: So Nimrod is low on luck? Interesting...

Nimrod: In related news, you _totally must not go_ to the summer camp. Instead you must visit me, your strange uncle, in London. That's v important. I'm not gonna explain why though. Just do it.

Me: Uh...really?

John and Philippa: Alright, will do!

Nimrod: You wake up now. Bye.

John and Philippa: But how can we convince our parents to let us visit our strange uncle who we never talked about completely on our own?

Nimrod: Does that sound any like my frickin problem, surprise no it doesn't, _bye now kids_

John and Philippa: *wake up and go home*

A series of mildly weird events: *happens*

11-yo-me: This sounds cool! I wonder what happens to me when my wisdoms come out!

18-yo-me: *whispers cynically* _Spoiler: nothing._ Just your cheeks will swell up until you look like you're playing Chubby Bunny in expert mode, and that'll ruin a week of your two-weeks Easter holiday. Except for that? Nothing. No djinn powers whatsoever. It'll be your acceptance letter to Hogwarts all over again. Fucking enjoy real life, kid. *flips table dramatically and leaves*

Mrs. Trump: *wins the lottery*

John and Philippa: Hey parents, can we go to London to see our strange uncle? Because we don't wanna go to the summer school loony-bin.

Edward and Layla: *look at each other and shrug* Sure thing, kids! *Edward hands everyone 100 dollars and flees*

11-yo-me: What does _paranoid_ mean?

18-yo-me: *pops head back in* You'll find out.

**Later on the plane to London.**

Some nice people: *disappear*

Captain: Listen, you two, the people who were sitting next to you disappeared.

John: LOL!

Philippa: Do you have any explanation?

John: *makes hand gesture* ALIENS

Next chapter: *is called "Nimrod"*

Me: Here we go again...

Nimrod: THERE YOU ARE, I've been waiting here for like five minutes or something! OH EM GEE, we're going to have so much fun together. And adventures. So many adventures. Also there will be great danger. Great, non-specific danger, for the moment. People will try to kill you. Just the ordinary things that always happen on a holiday with your uncle. This is Groanin btw, disregard him, he's a grump. A grump with one arm.

Groanin: *nondescript grunting noise*

Nimrod: You know what I hate? Babies. Ugh. They are so horridly disgusting. Why am I telling you this? No idea. I own a Rolls Royce. Red is my favorite color. Oh, look: my house.

11-yo-me: Nimrod is weird.

14/15-yo-me: *joins the conversation for the first time* I'm starting to think that Nimrod might be gay.

18-yo-me: *whispers* what about bisexual

Nimrod's house: *is weird*

Twins: *read _Arabian Nights_ *

18-yo-me: "Arabian Nights"? Kinda sounds like porn *sniggers*

11-yo-me: What

18-yo-me: In English the book's called "Arabian Nights". Not "1001 nights" like in German. I just found that out while reading a fanfic.

11-yo-me: What is fanfic?

18-yo-me: *bursts into tears*

Mr. Rakshasas: *appears*

18-yo-me: He gonna die in book 4.

11-yo-me: Shut up I'm trying to read!

Nimrod: *with the aid of Mr. Rakshasas* So basically, I'm a djinn. You're a djinn. Mr. Rakshasas is a djinn. Everyone's a djinn, except for the humans who are not a djinn. Djinn are made of fire, bla bla bla. Now we must travel to Egypt so you too can become djinn and do awesome djinn stuff.

Philippa: Wow. Is our dad a djinn too?

Nimrod: God, no. Kids. Why. You've got a perfect mother who can do anything, and you first think of your dwarf father? Seriously, why.

Me: *mutters* _Patriarchy..._

**Later: Egypt. Cairo airport, to be precise.**

John: There's a snake on my suitcase ohnoes!

Creemy: *disposes of snake*

Nimrod: The Ifrit did that. They are evil.

11-yo-me: *smells the wind* EVIL

My mom: *suddenly is there too* Why do you always like the villains in the books, you're so weird. First Lucius Malfoy, then Basta, and now this. Also, fictional characters aren't real and you can't marry any of them.

11-yo-me: What do you mean, marry...?

18-yo-me: SHHHH MOM he hasn't even come up yet!

_[ My dad: *shouting in German* Your mom's getting a cameo?! I want one too!_

_Me: Dad you don't even speak English]_

Nimrod: I own a Cadillac too. Look: my other house. It's next to the French embassy where that weird woman lives.

Mme. Coeur de Lapin: Being a woman is so weird. But on the bright side, I can now touch boobs whenever I want. Oh um, I meant hello Nimrod. I am indeed Madame Coeur de Lapin and no one else. What nice kids you have there. Let's all do stuff together sometime. Also I will blatantly flirt at Nimrod now, which will seem weird in a few chapters.

Nimrod: *gets subtly nervous*

Mme. Coeur de Lapin: Yeah let's definitely have a picnic together or some such. I, for one, will go away now to find out how female masturbation works. You know me, opportunist and all. *exeunt*

John: Something was weird about her.

Philippa: Her clothes?

Nimrod: Yes _definitely_ her clothes. Let us now go and be camels for a while. That'll be fun.

**After that.**

Nimrod: You guys are going to have your Tammuz tonight. That means you'll have to fast in the desert for one (1) night.

John and Philippa: One niGHT? In the desert? Without food? We are so scared!

11-yo-me: Wow, they're kind of whiny.

Nimrod: So yeah happy fasting for one night. Have this lamp and also some dictionaries. You could play word games with those if you get bored. Or polish the lamp hint hint HINT

John and Philippa: *figure out they have to polish the lamp hours later*

Mr. Rakshasas: *appears out of lamp* Good evening. I am here tonight to tell you the history of the djinn.

John and Philippa: Did he just come out of that lamp? That's so cool.

Mr. Rakshasas: Please don't use that word. I'm awfully old and therefore will not tolerate such language. Kids these days with their weird new words like "cool" or "groovy" or whatnot, and their rock music and their Pacman-videogames... also djinn are made of fire, and therefore, by definition, uncool. So, once upon a time, there were the angels, the humans and the djinn, and they all had to decide on whether they wanted to be good or evil.

Philippa: Why? And who made them decide? God?

Mr. Rakshasas: I cannot answer these questions as I have no idea.

**He proceeds to tell the rest of the story and also all the stuff about focus words which is very important but not funny, really.**

Philippa: *eventually* Where's Nimrod right now?

Mr. Rakshasas: Nimrod is currently looking for Iblis.

Twins: Whom?

Mr. Rakshasas: Iblis. He is an evil villain who is very evil. If djinn were pastry things, you know, I'd be an Irish scone, you, Philippa, would be a raspberry cream cupcake, Nimrod would be a red velvet pie and Iblis would be an evil cake with evil frosting and little sprinkles of evil on. He's the evil leader of the evil Ifrit tribe, which makes him, like, double evil. His name means "source of despair", which is very fitting because of how very, very _evil_ he is.

11-yo-me: Which mother names their son "source of despair"? Did this Iblis guy, like, cry a lot as a baby?

18-yo-me: Shush, kiddo. Do you hear that noise? It's the noise of impending doom. And it's coming for you...

**The next morning.**

Nimrod: Here I am again. I hope you had fun in the desert with Mr. Rakshasas. Let's hear your focus words now.

Philippa: I have thought up the most awesome focus word ever!

John: Mine's kind of okay too I guess.

Nimrod: Splendid. Now try to impress this stone.

Me: Typical...

**They train a bit. It's pretty awesome. But then they have to go for a picnic with the weird woman. Commence some more light flirting of her and Nimrod that will later inspire me to create the ship that haunts my life.**

John and Philippa: *upon leaving* Something was definitely off about this woman.

Nimrod: Well...that's probably just...her being French.

Mme. Coeur de Lapin: *calls after them* Omelette du fromage!

Nimrod: Anyhow. We must now go visit an old friend of mine. You might not remember him, but he was mentioned briefly in the prologue.

Twins: Uncle Nimrod? Who are you talking to? And what prologue?

Nimrod: Huh? Sorry, twins. I was just...breaking the fourth wall.

Narrator: Please don't do that. So, they proceeded to the antique shop of Nimrod's friend Hussein Hussaout. He was a man, and he looked good. In my opinion, "good-looking" is a wonderful word to describe a character. Any character. I'm so fond of that description, I'll use it over and over again all through the books until it becomes grating. Narrator out.

Nimrod: So, Hussein. While the twins are totally inconspicuously searching your house, let's cut to the chase. Have you, perchance, seen Iblis around?

Hussein Hussaout: Yes.

Nimrod: Sooo... how is he?

Hussein: He grew a beard.

Nimrod: Really?

11-yo-me: This is a pretty weird conversation to have about your greatest enemy. Also, men with beards, ick!

18-yo-me: Firstly, yes it is, secondly, you know nothing.

Hussein: Yeah. Apart from that he was the same as always. Class, manners, suit, walking cane. Basically, he's still sex on legs.

Nimrod: That's nice to hear.

**Meanwhile the twins, who've been snooping around a bit, have happened upon Baksheesh, who has been poisoned. All of this is a bit alarming. They go back to Nimrod who has just arranged to go into the desert at night all alone with Hussein Hussaout, who is most definitely a traitor. Why, Nimrod, why?**

Nimrod: Because saving the world is more important than my personal wellbeing and sometimes calls for sacrifices! Also, Iblis.

**What about him?**

Nimrod: *mumbles something including the phrase _sex on legs_ *

**I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that.**

Nimrod: _However_ , I will now, before I disappear into the desert with an alleged traitor, take the twins to the museum and tell them about Akhenaten...

11-yo-me: ...who, according to that description, kinda looked like my music teacher...

Nimrod: And _then_ I will disappear into the desert with an alleged traitor. Hey kids, why don't you, in my absence, amuse yourselves by making my butler with his weak stomach eat some incredibly hot curry? My sense of doing good is very weird. *exeunt*

**The next morning. Nimrod has** _**surprisingly** _ **not come back.**

John and Philippa: Alright, here is our plan. We're going to find Hussein Hussaout and question him hard. But first, we need something to drive there with.

John: How about... _a Ferrari_?

Philippa: In pink!

Mr. Rakshasas: I don't know what a car is.

Me: Guys...you're done for.

**Eventually they produce a pink Ferrari and question Hussein Hussaout. According to him, Nimrod fell into a manhole before even coming to his shop. He is innocent. No really. Totally not blackmailed by any Ifrit or anything. Also,** _**do not drive to the tomb** _ **, there's, um, alligators there. Yes. Alligators that shoot lasers out of their eyes. Who is definitely** _**not there** _ **is Nimrod. So, um, just go home and do nothing, okay?**

Nimrod rescue committee: Nope, not okay. *drive to the tomb in the pink Ferrari*

Peasants: *laugh at them*

**Later, somewhere in the desert.**

John and Philippa: Mr. Groanin. We have come to the conclusion that there is only one way for us to find uncle Nimrod. You have to sacrifice yourself for him.

Groanin: What?!

John and Philippa: Alright, that sounded a bit extreme. What we mean is, you have to sacrifice that spare wish you have from ages ago.

Groanin: *does*

Nimrod: Hey! You can now hear me and that is wonderful! I am in a tomb under a lot of sand!

Me: Why didn't they just wish for Nimrod to be brought to them? Then they could've avoided all that stuff they're about to go through.

Nimrod: *breaks fourth wall again* I'm afraid that is not possible because of the strong binding that entraps me. Iblis himself must have been here.

John and Philippa: How do you know?

Nimrod: The sweet scent of his cologne is everywhere. Also, the scorpion guarding the door is a definite hint.

**Long story short, they get rid of the scorpion and free Nimrod. Everyone is happy until they go back to Cairo and find out that Hussein Hussaout was killed.**

Nimrod: To find out more, we must possess the bodies of some policemen. Then we can look around.

Philippa: *upon doing so* It feels weird being a man.

Nimrod: Yes, indeed. (No, you don't understand, he actually said that in the book!)

**They talk to Baksheesh. He tells them about how his father had to "serve" Iblis, who apparently "moves like the wind".**

My dirty mind: *turns everything Iblis-related into innuendo*

Nimrod: Alright, now that that's that, we are going to catch an Iblis.

Twins: But how?

Nimrod: Let me tell you my plan. Sure, it sounds fishy from the very start, but it's a good plan nonetheless. Also, unfortunately, it entails you having to visit the weird woman next door.

Twins: Aw crud.

**So Philippa and John visit the weird woman next door.**

John and Philippa: Hello weird woman. Here's some perfume that our uncle bought for you.

Mme. Coeur de Lapin: *reads from the bottle* _Obsession for men_. Huh. That's the one I always use... uuuh I mean oh thank you so much, what a nice uncle you have, he's such a gentleman, sssoooo charming.

18-yo-me: AND THAT WAS WHEN I KNEW.

11-yo-me: Knew what?

18-yo-me: Shhh. Keep reading.

**They go into the library and talk about dung-beetles for a while. The whole set-up feels strange somehow. Until Philippa notices something.**

Philippa: Hmmm. This woman is definitely weird and slightly alarmingly so. Also, her headband is reeeeaaaally ugly. What if the headband is evil? Or a snake? Or both? Let's find out.

**She magics a mouse into Madame Coeur de Lapin's hair. The headband eats it. Philippa cleverly deduces that it is indeed a live snake, and most probably also evil. Then the snake turns into a man. He, too, is described as "good-looking". 18-year-old me watches in horrified fascination as doom descends on my 11-year-old self.**

Iblis: *turns up and is evil for, like, five minutes*

11-yo-me: I have no practical concept of sexuality yet, but I know my sexuality is now Iblis.

Common sense: The guy just puked on things, drank a lot, imprisoned the main characters, talked a lot of evil crud and he's not even real. Also, judging from all the "When Nimrod was young, he understood bla bla" he's probably gay for Nimrod. Is that a suitable crush for a good eleven year old girl?

Me: BUT... he has a walking cane.

Common sense:...?

Me: Also, what about bisexual

**Anyhow, the twins are imprisoned, and then de-prisoned again by Nimrod, who has quickly fucked Iblis before putting him into the perfume flask. As everyone knows, a djinn is at his weakest after binding another djinn** _**and** _ **performing sexual favors. And Nimrod cleverly exploited that weakness.**

**The rest of the plot is, as Iblis is gone now, not that interesting anymore. Basically, they find those seventy djinn, battle the ghost of Akhenaten, go to the North pole, and eventually have a happy ending. John and Philippa go back to their parents and promise their perfect mom to only use djinn powers when she says so.**

**The book ends, for some weird reason, with their dad singing in the shower and a tutorial for playing Astragali.**


	21. Headcanons, part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another list of headcanons.......yaaas

**1.** Iblis usually is the kind of drunk who sits somewhere alone glaring into his drink until he slides gently under the table. He doesn't drink to party, is all I'm saying. But God be with the world if he decides to go out and have a good time while drunk. He'll throw on his nicest suit, twirl his cane all classy as fuck, and hit the town, leaving burning rubble and mayhem, crushed dreams and a line of broken hearts that reaches from here to hell in his wake. He'll be an enthusiastic dancer, he'll be persuaded to do anything really (he'll do stuff on a pole if you ask him very nicely), and he'll inevitably wake up next to random people. Men, women, Jenny Sachertorte. One time, Nimrod had to go and stop drunk Iblis. It was a scarring experience. As soon as they ran into each other, Iblis grabbed Nimrod by his tie, dragged him to privacy, hurled him against a wall – which surprised Nimrod, who is a bit taller, broader and usually physically stronger – dropped to his knees and this is where things got nasty. Let's just say he loses any sense of restrictions he might possess in sober state.

Nimrod doesn't really touch alcohol much anymore.

**2**. I imagine all Ifrit being really really flexible, from all the time they spend as snakes. This gets really useful for sex-related stuff.

**3**. When John first met him in book 2, Mr. Vodyannoy says about his tribe, the Jann, that some of them are all about doing good, others, um, not so much, but overall they're a decent bunch.

Now I picture the Marid and Ifrit as absolutes – absolute good, absolute evil. The other tribes are just kinda... stuck in the middle? Like, the Hufflepuffs of the djinn world? As in, some of them just want to be left alone, morally gray, and some just love and care for everyone, even the evil guys, without judging, and there's a kindly Jann woman somewhere who sometimes gets scoffed at by the Marid, who'll pop over to Iblis with donuts or something and has offered him to come to her with mental health problems and sometimes he even does that. And that particular girl can move around Vegas without being molested by Ifrit _or_ mundanes, and if anyone tries to mess with her, the offender is discreetly pulled into an alley and dealt with. She could work secretly as a therapist for the evil tribes or something.

**3.5.** Iblis doing therapy is actually a precious headcanon of mine, if only for all the _trouble_ his poor therapist would have with him. Like, he'll stubbornly insist that everything's fine with him, but at the same time has these giant mental black holes with things like self-care and stuff, why should he care for himself, his only purpose in life is literally causing as much trouble as possible until Nimrod comes and kills him. And his therapist would say "You're not worthless", but Iblis would just laugh it off, yes of course he's worthless, fact, where would he have gained worth from, people like Nimrod have worth, but him, no, _I don't think you understand who I am, ma'am_. And she would be so frustrated, because she can't explain to this highly intelligent grown man the simple concept of self-worth.

**4**. When Iblis found out about Alexandra, his first reaction was "So that MORON has an estranged WIFE out there he went and MARRIED somebody what the HECK am I not GOOD ENOUGH anymore or WHAT...OFFENDED"

**5**. I guess if Iblis and Alexandra ever met, they would be at each other's _throats_ over Nimrod.

"He loves me more!"

"Nu-uh, he loves me more!"

"Well I'm his wife, so there!"

"Well I'm his...uh..."

"HA! You're so pathetic!"

"No, you are!"

"Please stop fighting, I don't want _either of you_ to get hurt..."

**6**. Iblis rescuing Nimrod when he's in peril, giving him a scolding for being "so damn reckless, were you just trying to get yourself killed there idiot, I swear to God, are you doing this on purpose to annoy me", swiftly getting rid of all enemies, then getting them both to safety. Because _only_ Iblis gets to kill or otherwise harm Nimrod, nobody else. _Nobody._ Yes, that's the reason. It is. It really is. His own hand or none. It's not that the years of fighting this exceptional djinn produced some _affection_ , no nope noooo. Iblis doesn't HAVE feelings.

**7.** So yeah, maybe Iblis and Alexandra would fight over Nimrod. Or maybe they would share...

I mean imagine Nimrod gets in trouble, like, pre-canon. Imagine Alexandra and Iblis temporarily teaming up, because of course they can't stand each other, but they have (different motivations but) the same goal: protect Nimrod at all costs. And, since they are very similar in temperament (anger-management-issuuuues...) at all costs _means_ at _all_ costs.

And then imagine Nimrod somehow getting the three of them to live together, and trying to help with their issues. Imagine them in a poly. It could be called Nimlisandra and it would never work (poor Nimrod being sandwiched between the djinn equivalents of a tsunami and an active volcano). Dear God, if I had infinite time and inspiration, I would write a fic about this...

**8**. Iblis getting freed from the jade armor and going through _actual PTSD_. I love how people are writing fics where Iblis gets freed, but they always are... not quite angsty enough for my taste. He basically just gets up and says "Well that was that, and now I have some more evil to do". Which is great! Not to discredit anyone's writing!

But did you think of all the possible trauma and the angst? Can you imagine how traumatic it would be for a severely claustrophobic person to be trapped in a very small space, possibly without being able to even move, absolutely powerless and with no hope for rescue, with nothing else to do than lying there waiting for death thinking about his failures? Just saying. He probably would have _nightmares_ about the jade armor. It could influence his character almost to a turning point.

**9.** If you encounter Iblis, you should generally just run. But if you happen to free him from a bottle and get on his good side (which is a thing, it really is), and he doesn't destroy you but actually grants you three wishes, you _may ask_ for a night. And there's a pretty high probability that he might actually go for it. He'll even buy you dinner first, _fancy_ dinner at a high-brow restaurant, so be sure to wear something nice.

**10**. Iblis has a conscience, and it speaks with Nimrod's voice.

**11**. John/Zadie should be a thing. Or Dybbuk/Zadie! (I really don't like Philippa/Dybbuk. I can't explain. I just don't like it.) Also, I was very sad with how things went with John and Faustina, especially since she said she'd found a way to not get hard-hearted, but then she did. Bit of a puzzle, that one.

**12**.  How things would go if they were asked to describe each other:

Nimrod would start with "Iblis is evil and needs to be stopped. He has done many horrible things. But that's not the only aspect to him..." and then he would launch into a detailed, hour-long description of every nuance of Iblis's being (looks, smell, sound of voice, general habits, vices and weakspots, list of evil deeds in chronological order, what he knows or guesses of his past, things that may speak for him).

Iblis would shrug and say: "He's a moron".

But if you probed a bit it would turn out that Iblis has an overly saint-like, almost romanticized vision of Nimrod. Nimrod is the epitome of good, the yin to his yang. Nimrod loves and cares for everybody, and can do nothing wrong ever. Nimrod isn't even able to feel petty things like jealousy, antipathy, or even lust; he's probably a virgin or asexual, he's just too holy for a thing like sex. Never has he ever slept late, used swear words, or been unkind to any living being.

Of course, as we all know, Nimrod doesn't quite live up to that reputation, he has his sides and causes, and whenever his image of him gets disproven, Iblis would be shocked and probably berate Nimrod in the style of "Nimrod, GOD, don't kill that BUG YIKES what's gotten INTO you, you're supposed to be the GOOD GUY" and so on and so forth.

**13**.  Valentine's day headcanon:

Nimrod receiving, like, a handful of cards: from Layla ("love, your sister"), from Alexandra ("thinking of you" or something along the line), from Jenny ("thanks for being a great friend"), a few other friendly ones from women he knows. And an anonymous one (male hand) that says:

"Marid,

Sometimes I regret having to hurt you.

You've always been there and stuff, so...yeah.

You kind of matter to me.

That's all, k, bye.

(wow I'm so bad at this)"

**14**. I strongly dislike Dybbuk, but something about his story is just so very tragic. Consider this: all the bad stuff that happened to Dybbuk was set off by his (somewhat naive but) totally innocent and, to a degree, understandable desire to go and meet his real father. He didn't want to switch sides and turn evil, he just wanted to hang around with his real dad for a few. And then he _never met_ his father.

Wait, what? Of course he did! Sure. But he didn't know it. And it was his real dad who shamelessly abused him for his evil plan, and is responsible for the loss of his djinn powers (well, for the most part) and then bloody _died_ without ever having talked to Dybbuk _as a father_ and Dybbuk _doesn't know_.

So yeah, if you want to experience some Dybbuk feels, you might wanna listen to the song "Dear Father" by Sum 41, that really aces the whole thing.

**15**. The other night I was snooping around the CotL wiki and there was that article about the seventy lost djinn of Akhenaten. And there was a thing that made me laugh, direct quote: "Philippa Gaunt correctly guessed that they were hidden within the Egyptian scepters (...) through Iblis's drawings". Now I know the person who wrote this meant "the drawings of Sekhem scepters Iblis was looking at", but now I imagine Iblis sitting somewhere with a sketchpad on his knees and a pencil like a total art nerd constantly sketching everything around him. Sekhem scepters. Pyramids. Cairo skyline. London skyline. Vegas skyline. Portraits of other Ifrit. Nimrod. Anything.

**16**. Someone asking Iblis: "How come you have so many children, but all boys? Do you drown the girls in a well or what?" and Iblis being like " _No_ , but, funny story, my son Charles was actually born Charlene. When he came out to me I thought like 'aww, but I wanted a daughter so _badly_ ' but it turned out that one was a son too, so I got him some decent hormone treatment, and then we hit one of those djinn plastic surgeons, and yeah." Or an asexual Teer kid, and Iblis (with his giant libido) being taught a life lesson about just not wanting it.

**17**. I love how there are fics where evil Dybbuk works with Iblis to get accepted by him as a son. If I wrote something like that, their meeting would go as follows:

Dybbuk:(bursts into room) Hey dad look, I'm evil now!

Iblis: (turns around slowly and menacingly) Hi evil... I'm dad

Aaaaand now I want to write a fic about evil Dybbuk somehow getting adopted into the Teer family and really getting to know his father and his brothers and the rest of the lot and realizing _Aww man, this isn't at all what I imagined_. Because umm, why is his evil dad trying to educate him? And why does he not comply to Dybbuk's every whim like his mom used to? And he's always saying things like "You forgot to tie your laces" "Did your mother never teach you table manners? Disgusting" or "Son, you're literally a massive prick all the time always, seriously how did the Marid put up with you?" in this arrogant uppity voice of his and this is just _the_ _worst_.

**18**.  Appearance headcanon: Iblis having actual battle scars on his body from when he got caught up in some destruction he or someone else caused or a fight with another djinn got physical. Ifrit are notorious for their tantrums, I imagine fights over leadership or something happen and they do get physically violent

**19**. An AU where everything is basically the same, but Nimrod and Iblis are living together at Nimrod's place in an odd-couple-scenario

**20.** Oh God, Nimrod finding a nasty scar on Iblis and retracing it and saying quietly, "I was the cause for that, wasn't I?" And Iblis says "Huh?" And Nimrod explains: "Remember, ten years ago, when we fought at [place] and I made that chandelier fall from the ceiling? It was just an accident, and you were bleeding and oh god I'm sorry" and he feels horribly guilty and works himself up over it, but Iblis is all like "oh yes I remember, you put up a pretty good fight, I barely made it, haha, you were awesome, those were the days"

**21.** Would djinn have body hair? Has anyone ever thought about this? Like, human body hair is meant for protecting humans against the cold, right? Would that even make sense with djinn, what with their higher body heat and whatnot? Also, they literally "wash hands" with fire, wouldn't they singe their body hair whenever they used their powers? So, considered it doesn't make sense for djinn to have any body hair, how the heck did Iblis grow a beard

**22.** Also, do djinn get sunburn? I'm asking the real questions here

**23**. Nimrod is horrible at giving gifts. Remember when, in book 6, he gave Groanin diving equipment for his birthday? Like, why would Groanin want that, why would he be interested in diving...why, Nimrod, just why? So now imagine Nimrod giving all sorts of silly, unfitting gifts to his loved ones, and they smile forcedly and keep the stuff around because they love him^^

**24**. In book 3, Iblis expresses his dislike for mundanes playing guitar, which saddened me a bit (because I'm mundane  & learning to play guitar and rock music literally saved my life). So I developed a few headcanons about Iblis and music.

One: Iblis dislikes guitars because an ex-wife who ditched him used to play (I even developed her character. She was Rudyard's absentee mom. Not sure if she'll ever appear anywhere or not).

Two: You know how there's often nothing more soothing than a classical piece, while rock music carries a lot of upbeat emotion, aggression even? So naturally, what with his character that's pretty much defined by an everlasting rage at everything, I thought Iblis could probably appreciate rock music, but what if certain songs/artists just trigger him, and whenever he hears them he gets really violent and destroys stuff. And as a consequence, he stays away from guitars in general and whenever he really needs an outlet he sits down at the piano and plays the Moonlight Sonata or whatever.

Three: Iblis only acts like he hates rock music to appear more sophisticated, but secretly he listens to the Stones or at least the Beatles. (He'll sing those mother-of-sad old Pogues songs when he's drunk.)

Sorry, I'm just very enthusiastic about all kinds of music. And Iblis, obviously.

**25.** You know how in book 4, when Iblis is captured, he turns _right_ to Nimrod like "Uh, help please buddy?" I always found that oddly touching and thus now think that Iblis views Nimrod as a kind of safe-person he can just turn to when in need, despite them being enemies and such. Nimrod can't help helping people, and Iblis knows. If he were ever to engage in S&M activities, his safeword would probably be Nimrod's name.

**26.** Not so much a headcanon but a thing I really want to see: Jenny Sachertorte meeting Iblis and punching him in the face. No fancy vindicta shit, she just punches him in the face so hard it makes his nose bleed. Because while Iblis is my baby, the things he has done to her were still beyond horrible, and she had to go through so much and she's such a strong woman and frankly, she deserves having a go at him.

**27.** I always imagined that, at least before Iblis took over, things like the Tammuz ceremony were not or very sloppily done in the evil tribes. I headcanon Iblis senior (and Iblis himself at the end) as the kind of disinterested leader who was far too self-absorbed to bother to explain to some brats how the djinn came to be. Djuniors just got their dragon teeth out and then they were taught what they needed to know by their parents or mentors. Iblis, for example, didn't get a Tammuz at all, because his father adapted a kind of "meh"-stance towards his son. Basically, teen Iblis got his wisdom teeth extracted and then he had to damn well figure out how to get by (which was a common practice amongst neglecting Ifrit parents at the time). He learned the basics about his djinn powers from books and practiced secretly, until his father was out of the picture. As soon as Iblis was the leader (he took over at the age of sixteen and had a long way to go yet), some Ifrit elders took over his education.

Of course the Ifrit wouldn't have things like the Taranushi which is for good djinn, but I imagine them having other rituals (that my muse hasn't talked to me about yet).

**28.** Iblis making really sure his sons get a good education because a dumb villain is a dead villain.

**29.** Everyone-lives-AU.


	22. Victoria Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually used to be the beginning of a multichapter story I planned on publishing but I never got beyond the first, like, four chapters?? Anyway, enjoy

"Nimrod! Nimrod, your cab is here!"

"Coming, Layla!" Nimrod shouted down the stairs, dragging his luggage behind him.

Layla, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, right by the open front door, sighed with something slightly close to exasperation at her little brother.

"I don't understand why you have to take so much...stuff with you" she said. "Just your lamp would suffice, really. Or why you refuse to take a whirlwind. That's so much easier, really."

Nimrod was about to depart on his Taranushi journey, and what he hadn't told his sister was that he decided against a whirlwind and in favor of mundane means of travel because he simply had no idea where to go yet.

After all, he had had little to no leisure to prepare for the ritual journey. His mother had left the family home for Babylon a mere month ago, and the lives of both Godwin siblings had been turned upside down. Suddenly Layla, young as she still was, had become Marid leader and had to get accustomed to a whole new world of business and responsibilities. Nimrod had been pretty much left alone to harbor his hurt feelings, even though his demeanor betrayed nothing of that and Layla thought her little brother had gotten over it like a true adult. But Nimrod wasn't quite as mature as she thought, and telling her that he was entirely unprepared for the Taranushi ritual or asking her who had so much to do for help would only disappoint his sister and be another burden on her, so Nimrod didn't say anything to her.

They said their goodbyes and Nimrod entered the cab, telling the driver to take him to Victoria Station, one of the major train stations in London.

There, he found himself before a large message board, running his eyes over departures and time tables, wondering just what direction, which corner of the world it might be for him. He had to admit he was feeling a bit lost. And not only that. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being _watched._ Watched by another djinn, no less.

Could it be Layla? Or Mr. Rakshasas? Had one of them followed him here to see how he was doing? Or, he thought for a split second in a childish glimmer of hope, his mother? Had she come back? He could feel the presence of a djinn, and quite a powerful one at that. Powerful, but...unstable.

He pushed these silly thoughts away from him and glanced around the station. Soon he spotted someone, the silhouette entirely unfamiliar to him, leaning casually onto the wall in some dark corner, so as to observe without being seen.

"Hey! Over there!" Nimrod called out to the stranger who, upon being spotted, came into the light.

It was a young man barely past boyhood, of about the same age as Nimrod, give or take a year. Nimrod found himself scrutinized warily by a pair of quite particular light brown eyes that, when exposed to the sunlight like this, had an almost yellow-ish sheen to them. These eyes stared at him from underneath a mess of white-blond hair which, combined with a rather dark complexion, looked exotic enough to a Londoner. He was traveling much lighter than Nimrod; while the latter carried his big, cherry-red duffle and his lamp of course, the former had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and that was it. His clothes had a hand-me-down look to them; all of this added up to a picture of strange, scruffy, careless elegance that wasn't so much about looks, but rather about the way the stranger moved as he stepped closer...an elegance that Nimrod with his fine suit and tidy appearance could have never achieved, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yes? Is there any problem, good sir?" the stranger asked in a quiet voice, with a careful, stilted way of phrasing that Nimrod took for foreigner English.

"I just...thought you were looking at me."

"Indeed I was" the stranger said, a smirk tugging at the right hand corner of his mouth. "Is it forbidden to look at you, good sir?"

The "good sir" sounded weird coming from a boy about his age, Nimrod thought. Like he had learned his English out of books. Maybe he was doing it in mockery? He looked the type.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Nimrod asked.

"Excuse me? I'm London born and bred, thank you very much." Written out, the words may look angry, but in fact, the stranger hadn't even raised his voice.

"Oh, so you...just don't get out much" Nimrod assumed.

For the first time, the other's cocksure behavior seemed to flicker. "That's right, I don't...get out much" he said. "You're a djinn too?" It was a question, although phrased as a statement.

"Right! I am" Nimrod said, somewhat relieved the other had asked first. "Nimrod Godwin. From the Marid tribe."

The other hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm Iblis Teer. Ifrit."

For a moment Nimrod was shocked. He hadn't had anything to do with the Ifrit yet; he just knew the nightmare-inducing stories the folks told about them. Of course he had heard of the son of the current Ifrit leader, enigma that he was. The boy had never been introduced to djinn society, Nimrod's mother had been of the opinion that this was simply because Iblis Teer senior was known to not care very much for djinn society. Or his son. Or anyone other than himself.

But there had always been the _other_ stories, the kind you only whispered. About how Iblis senior kept his son locked up in absolute isolation at all times, training him to fight with brutal methods unknown to even the worst of djinn, making him become a merciless killer weapon absolutely devoid of empathy or any other emotion, brainwashed into hating every other djinn or human on the face of the earth. And, of course, about how he would release this fearsome monster in due time, when it became strong enough.

The guy in front of him didn't look brainwashed, or like he was about to kill Nimrod on the spot. Nimrod had to admit he was intrigued; the Ifrit had piqued his curiosity. _Let's see about him_ , he thought and extended a hand.

"It's nice to meet you" he said.

"Umm...? Nice to meet you too?" Iblis answered carefully and looked at Nimrod's hand as if he was waiting for him to perform a magic trick.

"You shake it" Nimrod helped out.

Iblis nodded and took Nimrod's hand. He had a nice, firm handshake. _Trustworthy._

Then they let go and eyed each other, both still not letting their guard down, the tension fading only slowly.

"So, where are you off to?" Iblis asked eventually, gesturing around the train station.

"Isn't that obvious? I'm on my Taranushi, of course."

"It's not obvious. What is a Taranushi?" Iblis asked politely.

"Oh, you wouldn't know that, right? What with you being evil. The Ifrit don't have that ritual, do they?"

"Well, no, the Ifrit don't have that, as far as I know. What's it all about?" Nimrod noticed with interest how Iblis's voice had a sharp edge to it for the first time. _Doesn't like being called_ evil _, huh? And the way he speaks of 'the Ifrit', so detached, like he isn't one..._

He didn't ask. Instead, he explained all about the Taranushi journey as best as he could.

"Interesting. So you just have to find some mundane and grant him three wishes?"

"Basically, yes."

"I've never done that. Granted wishes, that is. I would just pick anyone, get it over with, and then have a good time."

"Yes, that's a very... _Ifrit_ approach to the matter" Nimrod said, jokingly scolding. "There's more to it. I'll have to find a very _special_ mundane, one who _deserves_ good luck. They can fail you if you do it wrong, and then you lose djinn powers for a year."

Iblis looked impressed for about a half second, then he smirked again. "Well, not me. You. Good luck searching" he teased. For the first time, he appeared like the stereotypical mean, bullying Ifrit. But only for a moment. Then his curiosity seemed to get the better of him, and he asked: "Where are you going to look anyway?"

"I, um, I don't know yet. What about you, where are you going?"

"I'm running away from home."

"What, really? Why?"

Iblis sighed and raked a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "That's not important right now. Let's just say...I'm sick and tired of my old man and his evil Ifrit stuff. He can kill people by himself if that's what he wants. I'm not following his stupid legacy. I'm out of here."

Nimrod remembered the stories again. If his father was really that bad...no wonder Iblis ran away. Anyone would.

"But where are you _going_?"

"I don't know. Just...away from here. I'll just take the next train out of town...who knows what happens then."

"So, why don't you take a whirlwind? That's much easier, really" Nimrod said, smiling as he remembered Layla.

"Umm, I don't want my father to notice me go."

"Would he come after you?"

Iblis sighed again. "I guess he won't. Not like he cares. Te truth is...I haven't made a whirlwind yet. Ever."

Nimrod looked at him in surprise. Creating a whirlwind was one of the first things Marid kids learned. Maybe the stories where not all true...

"Anyway, about your Taranushi thing" Iblis said quickly as he saw how Nimrod was looking at him. "I wouldn't waste my time around here, if I were you. I'd go to the really poor countries, practically everyone could use a good djinn there. Africa, south Asia, you know. Plus, it's warm there."

Nimrod nodded slowly. That had been a solid piece of advice...the young Ifrit was clearly warming up for the idea. He was so...mysteriously interesting. Nimrod wondered what he had been through.

He wanted to find out. He didn't want to part ways with him just yet. He looked Iblis in the eyes, and saw his own lost feeling mirrored in the light-brown eyes.

"Do you want to come?" he asked spontaneously.

"What, with you? On your...journey thing?"

"I know you'd like to. Come on."

The Ifrit bit his lip. "Right, if you don't mind..."

And that's how Nimrod first met Iblis.


	23. Scribbles, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. More scribbles. I've done book 1-4 actually, so...look forward to that, I guess

11-yo-me: *enters bookshop* I'd like to buy book two of that series about the djinn, please...

18-yo-me: Here we go again...not like I can stop her...*sighs*

Narrator: This book starts with John and Philippa wanting to celebrate Halloween. Alas, their perfect mother didn't let them.

11-yo-me, obsessing over Halloween: Woooow, poor them!

John: I want to be a falcon! Or at least own one!

Philippa: My favorite color is still pink. All girls like pink, right? RIGHT?!

Author: *probably has no daughters*

John: Also, I want to punish some people for doing bad stuff, but ugh it is too cold out. I feel not so good as its Christmas time and there are too many wishes in the air.

Philippa: Me too.

Layla: Let's get you two a doctor. I am beautiful.

Mrs. Trump: I too am now more beautiful than I was before, not as beautiful as Layla though.

Jenny Sachertorte: *bursts into room* I am the most beautiful!

_*Iblis sniggers in the distance*_

Dybbuk: And I'm just annoying. Pure and simple annoying.

11-yo-me: Wow, that Dybbuk guy sure is annoying.

18-yo-me: This is _nothing_. He'll get worse.

11-yo-me: Really?

18-yo-me: _SO MUCH WORSE_

_*Iblis sounds of remorse in the distance*_

Dybbuk: So listen here guys, I'm going to tell you how to use your djinn powers when it's cold, if you help me play a really mean trick on my stepmother.

John and Philippa: No...

Dybbuk: Haha, I will trick you into doing so anyway! I'm so cool trololol! You mad bro?

18-yo-me: How can anyone like this guy?

John: Now that I have djinn powers again, I'm going to heal a bully from his bad ways...and also scare off Mrs. Trump's lazy cleaning lady by moonlighting as John Lennon.

Mr. Vodyannoy: Not cool.

John: Yes cool. *explains why cool*

Mr. Vodyannoy: Aha. So you're one of the Gaunt twins. I've heard of you. You heroically defeated Iblis last year. Well done.

Me: They didn't do much _defeating_ really...they were decoy...they just stood there...Nimrod did the actual work...I must know, I read the scene like a gazillion times...

Mr. Vodyannoy: Beware of Iblis' sons. They got the anger management issues, just like daddy.

11-yo-me: Aww, Iblis has _kids_? What a man... *dreamy sigh*

Mr. Vodyannoy: Now I will send you home by whirlwind.

John: NONONO WAIT!

Mr. Vodyannoy: *sends John home by whirlwind*

John: *comes home by whirlwind*

Layla: *pitches a fit* WHY are you on a whirlwind and also WHAT happened to the apartment of Dybbuk's stepmom?!

Twins: Dybbuk made us do that. We think.

Layla: Oh, alright then. *stops pitching fit* Also, guess what? There's an event tonight that you can go to. Nimrod will be there, and also Mr. Rakshasas who has written a book.

Twins: Nice.

**They go to the book event.**

Nimrod: *who is there* Hello twins, and also everyone reading this. I am back, and just as weird as ever, breaking the fourth wall and so on. Hey, Philippa, how about the djinnverso tourney, are you in?

Philippa: I dunno.

Nimrod: Well, to convince you, let me introduce you to some unpleasant people from the Ghul tribe. I believe that the leopard is absolutely unable to change its spots, and that evil people are born evil and never cease to be evil, which is kinda asshole-y of me. _Nonetheless_ I tried to step in for Iblis to prevent him from going to Venus, because Iblis is special to me.

Philippa: Iblis is going to Venus?

Nimrod: Not voluntarily. Let's throw a very short pity party for him and then get back to business.

Philippa: *pities*

Nimrod: Well sure this is unfortunate, but nothing can be done. The blue djinn has spoken, and Iblis must be punished for killing that one guy back in book one.

11-yo-me: Woah woah stop right there. So basically, Iblis was...permitted to live in peace for years, doing bad stuff, killing thousands of people with earthquakes and whatnot, but now that he has killed _this one guy_ , he must be punished?! What _is_ the djinn legal system even

**As Philippa goes home, there is some foreshadowing thing about the blue djinn. Basically this whole chapter was a foreshadowing thing about the blue djinn but whatevs. Also in the next chapter: More foreshadowing about the blue djinn.**

**Later, the djinnverso event happens and we actually meet the blue djinn.**

John: *has a sass-off with Palis the foot-fetishist*

Rudyard: *has a sass-off with everyone*

My Philippa/Rudyard ship: *is born*

Izaak Balayaga: Let me insult you. Also, can you introduce me to Nimrod? For I much desire to speak with him.

John: Let me insult you back. Sure thing, mate. Nimrod is my uncle.

Izaak: So, you're John Gaunt? I've heard of you! You and your sister heroically defeated Iblis last year!

Me: THEY DIDN'T ACTUALLY _DO_ ANYTHING!

**Meanwhile, Philippa is in the final round. Everything is suspense. But then someone manipulates and disgraces Philippa, onoes! To redeem herself, she and John must go fetch some book from Izaak who "accidentally" stole it yeah sure. Not thinking anything of it, they get on a train from Istanbul to Berlin to meet the guy.**

Train: *stops in Transylvania for added creepy*

Demon thing outside: *is outside*

Izaak: *comes in, talks some crud, then he bottles John up and kidnaps Philippa*

Nimrod and Groanin: *find John eventually*

Nimrod: This is a very unfortunate turn of events. Me and John will go and ask Ayesha some questions.

**Commence some walking into walls and chats with a croucher demon. Turns out Ayesha isn't in the hood, so they go to Cairo instead to talk to that douche Izaak.**

Izaak: *is very sorry* Guh OMG, let me kiss your hand, John-

John: *pulls hand away* Ew.

Izaak: It wasn't my fault! Ayesha has told me to kidnap Philippa. She said if I don't follow her orders I could give Iblis company on Venus...

Me: Pretty easy choice I'd say. But that's just me.

Izaak: And now she's taken Philippa to Babylon to make her the next blue djinn.

Nimrod: Oh bugger all.

John: *punches Izaak in the face* Then let's go to Iraq!

Nimrod: *after a brief talk to Mr. Rakshasas* Yes, but first we must go back to Britain...to talk to Virgil Macreeby.

John: Why?

Mr. Rakshasas: Because I say so. Now let's take off to Cumberbatch castle...err, I mean Cumber _nauld_ castle...where Macreeby lives.

**They meet Macreeby. He's a...Mac-creepy fellow (please excuse bad pun), does stuff with a venomous spider and insists on having three wishes for his help. He gives them the Bellili-scrolls so they can get to Iravotum, but he also accidently turns his son into a falcon. And he stays a falcon, because obviously Macreeby ran out of fucks to give.**

**Meanwhile Philippa gets acquainted with Iravotum. It's not a pleasant place to be.**

Philippa: I want to go home.

Ms. Glumjob: My life kind of sucks.

Ayesha: Nobody is going home. NOBODY! *if Ayesha wasn't devoid of any emotions, she would probably now laugh evilly*

Philippa: But what's going on?

Ayesha: I have chosen you to become the next blue djinn after my death, which will be pretty soon.

Philippa: But that's stupid. I'm only twelve, and I don't even want to be here. I mean, nothing here is _pink_!

Ayesha: Do not question my logic. Logic, by the way, is the beginning of wisdom. That is true because Mr. Spock said so. Mr. Spock is my idol. In this vicinity, we have a logic tree that influences pretty much everything. And soon, it will influence you...and in thirty days, when your transformation is complete, you are ready to rule as the blue djinn.

Philippa: What is the crazy woman talking about?

Ayesha: I heard that, kid. Long story short, you will become...hardcore. Like me. I'm a boss ass bitch.

**Scene change to John, Nimrod and everyone.**

Nimrod: So basically, here's our plan.

Mr. Rakshasas: John will go to Babylon alone without his djinn powers.

John: Uuuuh, seriously? Why?

Mr. Rakshasas: For added suspense.

Me: *starts losing faith in Mr. Rakshasas and his wisdom*

John: *keeps said faith and proceeds to travel Iraq together with Groanin, his dog uncles and a twelve-year-old as their driver*

Montana Retch: Hi.

Some desert locust demons: *turn up* You ate our friends.

John: Uuuuh.

Dybbuk's water elemental: *comes to the rescue*

American army guys: We are here too apparently.

John: Can this journey get any more random?

**Meanwhile, Philippa has started writing a diary. She also met an Ifrit called Ravioli, but he's not important, and Ayesha talks again about how she will die real soon. Just another day at the hanging palace.**

**So while John fights some guards and has a boss battle with his dad, Nimrod is out looking for a new blue djinn.**

Edwiges the side character: Hello.

Nimrod: Hello Edwiges. Will you do the thing?

Edwiges: Maybe.

Nimrod: You could save everyone an infinite amount of trouble and pain. And it's not like you're doing anything important right now.

Edwiges: _Maybe._

Nimrod: Come on. You're just a side character. Time to shine.

Edwiges: Alright, alright, I guess I'll do the thing.

Nimrod: Perfect! All problems solved. *pats himself on shoulder*

**Scene change back to John.**

John: Um, hi Mr. ferry guy made of metal. Can you bring me and my dog uncles to Iravotum?

Metal man: *is mute*...

Magical talking boat: *pouts*

Me: This really can't get any more random.

Falcon Finlay and the Rukhkh: *prove me wrong*

**Also, Philippa meets the Bocca Veritas, which I always thought was in Rome...?**

Philippa: Oh my God, you're a severed head.

Head: Yep. Listen kid, your brother is coming for you, but he's being attacked by the Rukhkh. You can help him by making some wind. Also Ayesha is your granny.

Philippa: That was oddly undramatic.

**Meanwhile John is being Rukhkh'd.**

Alan and Neil: *nom the bird's feet and die*

John: Oh no! Not Alan and Neil! Now I need another animal sidekick!

Finlay: Hi. *at least he would say hi, if he wasn't a falcon*

Wish monster: Hi. *eats wishes*

The King: Hi. *eats grass*

John: Oh great, a new friend! I'll take you with me to New York!

Tom Riddle: *walks by with a map* I'm sorta kinda lost...

Me: This has reached the pinnacle of random...

Narrator: Meanwhile, Philippa has become hard-hearted. Also, remember how Iblis was supposed to go to Venus? Yup, he disappeared.

Me: *does a victory dance* CALLED IT CALLED IT CALLED IT! CALLED IT!

Philippa: *gets mad at everyone*

Ayesha: *doesn't give a fuck cause she so hardcore*

John: *shows up only to get insulted by Philippa...because Philippa is now too a boss ass bitch*

John: Nope. *pours water over Philippa*

Philippa: *sees the error of her ways*

**They go back up. Alan and Neil come back to life as humans, but thank god they don't take the grass-eating king with them after all. They meet up with Groanin and go to a diner.**

Montana Retch who is there: *tries to shoot Philippa*

Layla: *suddenly appears and turns Montana Retch into a cat* Hello kids. Your perfect mommy is here now to make everything right. *doesn't tell anyone that she signed up to be the next blue djinn*

Edwiges the side character: Phew! That was close! Now back to my life as a side character.

Me: But...but...Nimrod solved all the problems! Why didn't Edwiges just do it? Then Layla could have stayed home and half the third and fourth book prolly wouldn't have happened...don't even get me _started_ on the fifth...

Nimrod: *who is there too somehow* *seriously when did he come in?* In unrelated news, I have to go to Cairo. The Tuchemeter is going totes crazy. Anyone have a clue why that is?

Philippa: Iblis has disappeared. That's what I heard at _my grandma's_ place.

Nimrod: Your grandma is unimportant now, we must go! Shadowfax, show us the meaning of haste! I'm coming for your butt, Iblis!

**Meanwhile, Iblis's butt is still trapped in a bottle on a garbage dump in the middle of nowhere.**

Iblis: Fuck dammit.

Me: Yaaaaaay Iblis!

Iblis: Yay me. God this sucks.

Galibi: *finds the bottle*

Iblis: Heeey kid, wanna buy some dru...uuuuh...care to open this bottle? I can give you rad stuff!

Galibi: Naah...you could be a demon or something...

Iblis: Come on kiddo. Do it for the vine.

Galibi: I don't make vines. I'm poor.

Iblis: Do it for...chocolate-covered ants.

Galibi: Deal! *opens the bottle, gets diminuendo'd*

**Nimrod arrives a bit later, finds voodoo-Galibi and the "my dear Nimrod"-letter.**

Nimrod: Aha, I see quite clearly now that Iblis has, in fact, escaped.

Layla: Yes, and he's gonna pay for threatening my kids! Even if it's the last thing I do!

John and Philippa: Awesome, mom!

Me: Sooooo, they'll hunt him down immediately, right? And drag him to justice screaming and kicking, right? _Right?_

Book 3: WRONG.

Me: Wait, they let him be _again_?! It seems like these good guys aren't really enthusiastic 'bout their job, huh? _Huh, Nimrod?!_

Nimrod: *looks at the floor and fidgets* Well, we all want some peace and quiet after all this peril we've been through...and Layla...and...I mean, as long as he doesn't do any harm, why shouldn't he...um...

Me: You...like Iblis a little too much, huh?

Nimrod: I don't know what you're talking about...what do you see there, there's nothing there...just respect for a clever enemy...yeah...just respect...

Me: And denial is a river in Egypt... *ships harder*


	24. Ohana, part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Dybbuk gets adopted into the Teer family? Done!  
> It is definitely an AU because after Dybbuk became evil, Iblis is no longer around...so yeah, I muddled up the timeline a bit.  
> I always wanted to describe the Teer family home...in my mind, it's a cozy place for a pretty large family to coexist, a place where they go to unwind from the evil. They have their super evil headquarters somewhere else.  
> The Caesar's Palace was shamelessly stolen out of "Hangover".

"Dybbuk, listen." She never called him Buck anymore.

Dybbuk briefly looked up at his mother standing in the door, then concentrated his attention to the flatscreen on the wall again. He was playing a video game and right now didn't feel like pausing.

"Turn that off, we need to talk."

Dybbuk did not comply. Things had been tense between his mother and him, following the events since his Johnathan Tarot career. Thankfully, Jenny didn't even know about the things that had happened afterwards...and neither did Faustina, that nosy git of a _sister_ , or at least he hoped so. After regaining his djinn powers, Dybbuk had been wandering aimlessly, causing mayhem here and there, until she had found him and pretty much dragged him back here. But she must have had an inkling at least about how much her little brother had changed, because she insisted on her mother to bind him to this place they still dared call his "home".

He just hoped his mom would forget about it soon. She always did.

Jenny Sachertorte sat down on his bed with a tired sigh. "I don't know what to do anymore. I heard rumors, Dybbuk, about what you did when you were away...horrible rumors...and Philippa Gaunt still won't talk to me...and I don't think I can handle this anymore."

"Hmm?" Dybbuk asked.

"You...I can't keep you here."

Dybbuk paused his game and turned around. "What?"

"I can't...I can't handle you anymore. I always hoped I could keep you away from...from _his_ path..." Who was she talking about? "But I think I may have been too...lenient with you in the past. I think you need a...a _strong hand_."

"What?" Dybbuk asked again.

"I've made a decision" Jenny said tiredly. "And I've arranged for you to stay with your...father."

 _That git who left her?_ Dybbuk thought. _Hah, as if_ _ **he**_ _could "handle me". Strong hand, my ass. He isn't even my real dad._

"So, yeah. It pains me, but I'm just...at my wits' end. Pack some things, you're going tomorrow."

* * *

 

The next morning. Dybbuk had packed barely anything. There was nothing here he wanted to take. "As soon as we get there, I'll take the binding off of you" Jenny informed him in an offhand, hollow voice.

"And my... _he_ really agreed to take me in?" Dybbuk asked. As far as he knew, his stepdad didn't really want to be bothered with him. He just wanted to live a civil life with his mundane girlfriend.

"Yes" Jenny said. "I talked to him on the phone. He was...kind of reluctant at first, but we reached a civil agreement." She shuddered a bit, as if that phonecall was not one of her most pleasant memories.

Dybbuk was surprised as his mother didn't lead him up to the roof to create a whirlwind, but to her car, a vintage Ford Mustang.

"What, no whirlwind?"

"No. We can't use them anymore, they're too unstable. Due to global warming. That happened while you were away."

"So? You're gonna _drive_ all the way to New York?"

Jenny shot him a peculiar look. "We're not going to New York."

"What? Where to then?" Dybbuk hadn't known his stepfather had moved? Maybe that too happened while he'd been "away". Not that he cared much.

"Las Vegas, Dybbuk. When I said _your father_ I meant..."

"My _real_ father?"

"Yes, him" Jenny told him in a clipped voice.

 _Holy shit_ , Dybbuk though, awed.

* * *

 

The whole car ride was very quiet and uncomfortable. Jenny drove in chilly silence; Dybbuk wasn't in the mood for talking either. Throughout the ride, he couldn't stop gnawing on his fingernails in nervous anticipation. His mother didn't reprimand him for chewing his nails. In fact, she didn't even look his way save for a couple of times. It showed how she had given up on him.

The city of Las Vegas looked just like he remembered it. Only he had been fundamentally different when he first visited.

* * *

 

They checked in at the Caesar's Palace, one of the city's many hotel-casinos. The girl at the check-in gave them their room keys and said "Enjoy your stay" in that horrible chipper Customer Service Voice that Dybbuk abhorred to no end. But then the girl leaned forward and whispered: "He'll meet you on the roof".

"You're an Ifritah, aren't you?" Jenny whispered back.

The girl shrugged and popped her gum in Jenny's face. "Yeah. Surprised? You shouldn't be. We're everywhere."

Jenny grabbed Dybbuk's arm. "Let's go."

"You shouldn't keep him waiting" the check-in girl smirked.

* * *

 

"Ugh, not the elevator" Dybbuk groaned as his mother dragged him to one. "I get claustrophobic in there."

"We'd be an eternity if we took the stairs" Jenny answered. "The girl was right. Your father controls this city. It really is best not to keep him waiting."

 _And you're scared of him_ , Dybbuk thought. _How pathetic._

* * *

 

Five minutes later, the two of them stepped out on the roof. It appeared, for all there was, deserted...but then Dybbuk saw the lone silhouette of a man leaning on the railing, smoking a cigarette while looking down. He turned around when he heard Jenny's heels clicking over the concrete.

Dybbuk didn't know what he had expected. A threatening display of guards, maybe? A threatening...anything, for that matter? A secret, smoky room and his father sitting behind a desk stroking a white Persian cat, like in a mafia movie?

That fair-haired man with the tan skin wearing an obviously tailored suit bore almost no outer resemblance to dark-haired, pale-skinned Dybbuk who apparently took after his mother, but he seemed...hauntingly familiar. Dybbuk had never met him, but he recognized him without fail: This was his real father.

"Jenny Sachertorte" he greeted in a quiet, raspy voice, with a distinct British lilt. The look he gave Dybbuk was like he had just found him under his immaculately polished shoes.

"Iblis" Dybbuk's mother replied. "We meet in person at last." She scanned him critically. "So this is what you look like when you're not in the form of other people's husbands."

Iblis gave a delicate, artificial cough. "I guess saying 'no hard feelings' now would be highly uncalled for."

"You guess correctly" Jenny said stiffly.

"Right" Iblis said, raking his fingers through his hair in a gesture Dybbuk recognized...from himself, he realized, shuddering inwardly. His eyes never left his father's face as he stood by and listened to the adults talk.

After a few seconds of feet-shuffling and awkward silence, Iblis added: "I should probably not have slept with you."

"Correct again" Jenny said. But then she added in a soft little voice: "You know, if I hadn't feared you so, I would have come here much sooner."

"Why? Was he always that hard to handle?" Iblis asked, referring to Dybbuk for the very first time.

"There have been better times" Dybbuk's mother said. "But now...I've lost him, and you've won."

Iblis gave a derisive snort. "What makes you think that we've been competing?"

Jenny didn't answer that. Instead she breathed "Why did you sleep with me?" It sounded like she was about to cry.

"Why? Oh. You think there was a purpose behind that? Some sort of elaborate evil plan?"

"I just want the truth. After you...you did that to me...my family fell apart. My husband and my kids...they didn't say anything, but they all blamed me. Ridiculous, isn't it? But I found myself wondering...what I had ever done to attract your...attention..."

"My libido, you mean. That is indeed ridiculous. Blaming yourself for being deceived like that! I'm a greedy, selfish, despicable shit trash person, I am to blame and no one else – that's all there is to this." Iblis drew the corners of his mouth upwards, but it wasn't real – it looked like a toothache rather than a smile. "And it's one of my rather graver mistakes."

Dybbuk was getting aggravated. So that's what he was – a grave mistake?

"But you'll take the boy."

"Yes" Iblis said. "I'm afraid he'll have to be evil."

What did that mean? Dybbuk _wanted_ to be evil.

"I'm afraid he already is" Jenny whispered.

Iblis clicked his tongue. "Well, how unfortunate" he said in a colorless voice. Then he took a pocket watch – _yes_ , Dybbuk screamed inwardly, an actual _pocket watch_ , like on a _chain_ – out of his pocket and glanced at the time. "Is there anything else we should discuss? The matter of _vengeance_ , perhaps?"

"Vengeance?" Jenny asked.

"I always wondered why I didn't receive a shitstorm of vindicta and death threats after what I've done. Or at least an alimony suit. Hmm?"

"I told no one" Jenny whispered. "They would all blame me too, and I needed no further blaming. The only one outside the family who was let in on it is Nimrod, and he told me to better leave you alone."

Iblis coughed again. "Ah, Nimrod." His eyes took on a distant expression.

"And as for vengeance..." Jenny continued, her voice suddenly steely sharp. All docility seemed to drop from her like a shed coat as she stepped forth, a glorious avenging angel, and punched Iblis in the face with all force she could muster. Dybbuk heard a crackling sound and saw lots of sudden blood, and as both his father's hands flew up to his face, Jenny's knee came up and kicked him in the groin. Iblis cursed colorfully as he cringed and toppled against the railing, while Jenny turned around and stalked off without a word of goodbye.

"Ow, fuck" Iblis groaned, but to Dybbuk's surprise he was also laughing. "I think she broke my nose. Bloody Hell! That was fierce, wasn't it? And also justified, I guess."

Dybbuk didn't quite know how to react, so he just watched as his father un-broke his nose and stopped the flow of blood with a single whisper of his focus word. "Damn" he muttered, looking down on himself. "Blood on my favorite suit. Again. Well, not like I didn't deserve it."

Now, for the first time, Iblis gave Dybbuk a critical once-over. "Although I'm still l better off than you" he remarked. "Your hair looks like you just crawled out of a cave. Do you know what a shower is? Also you forgot to tie your laces. You're going to trip over them and look like an idiot."

Dybbuk groaned, annoyed. _But that's probably what you have to expect from your evil dad._ "Can we go now?"

Suddenly there was a swish and a blur of movement, and Dybbuk found the pointy metal tip of an ebony walking cane neatly embedded in the tip of his shoe. "You're probably wondering if I can get it all the way through to the ground" Iblis said casually. "I wonder too. Should I try my luck? No? Then please tie your laces now, and furthermore adapt a nicer tone of voice in the future. That is all, thanks. We can go now."

Iblis brought Dybbuk to the outskirts of town, a bit into the Mojave Desert, where a stately manor stood, lined by huge pines and palm trees that obscured it completely from outside view.

"What is this place?" Dybbuk asked.

"The secret Teer Mansion" Iblis answered curtly as he led him over the huge lawn to the entrance. In other circumstances, Dybbuk would have marveled at the huge garden, the swimming pool, the back porch with its various deck chairs and would have looked forward to living here...but right now, he could only think about how very much _not evil_ everything seemed. A small mystery was what looked to be a garage at the end of a wide gravel path; littered around it were, as Dybbuk could deduce, various car parts in all shapes and sizes. He wondered briefly what those were for.

They went inside the house into a small entrance hall painted in a fading cream-yellow. A lot of photographs adorned the walls; as far as Dybbuk could see, most of them depicted a bunch of mischievous-looking boys from infantry to early adulthood.

"Your brothers" Iblis, who had caught Dybbuk staring, said.

"How many of them are there?" Dybbuk asked.

"Oh, eight without you" Iblis said. "You'll probably meet them all over the next few days."

 _Eight without him?_ A part of Dybbuk was suddenly feeling a lot less important.

He was led up a broad staircase up to the next floor. Here there was a wide hallway with a lot of doors tweaking. From behind the doors came noises, muffled conversation, someone was playing the guitar. Every door bore a nameplate, and Dybbuk strained to decipher those closest to him: _Odair, Jared, Raj, Charles..._

At the end of the hallway, a door led into a wide, bright living room with several cozy chairs and couches. Some of those were occupied by boys a few years older than Dybbuk, who he thought had to be his brothers. They were reading, chatting, taking naps, two of them were gathered around what looked like a dismantled gramophone, tinkering with it.

"Who's the newcomer?" asked a blonde youth, the only one to have Iblis's hair, looking up.

"That's your youngest brother, Dybbuk. He's new to all this, so try not to eat him. I'm sure you will all get along like a house on fire. One of you guys should give him a quick tour of the house...because I sure as hell won't do it. For now you should know" Iblis continued, turning again to Dybbuk, "this right here is our living room, kitchen and dining room are downstairs, upstairs we have my rooms and, of course, the library. You _can_ read, can you?"

One of the boys chuckled. Two others exchanged puzzled glances. Then blondie stepped up and extended a hand.

"I'm Charles" he said. "You can call me Charlie."

Dybbuk ignored the hand. "You look like a girl."

Suddenly the mood among the brothers Teer changed completely. They had been watching him peacefully, with mild interest. Now there was tension in the air.

"Listen up" said one of them. "You cause my little bro dysphoria, I'll gut you like a fucking pig."

"Hey, it's alright, no harm done" Charlie said, attempting to calm everyone. "If I got a panic attack every time someone mentioned girls around me...well that would be a lot of panic attacks to have."

Dybbuk was irritated. Apparently he had broken some kind of taboo just now, but which one he didn't understand.

"Well, they say a good first impression is everything" Iblis muttered from behind him. "Come on now, brat, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. You'll share a room with Rudyard for the time being."

Dybbuk was led to the room from which the guitar playing was coming. Iblis knocked twice, to no avail. Then he pushed the door open.

"Goddammit, Rudyard, turn that crap down!"

The walls of the room that was thus revealed were plastered with posters of people like Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain. On a shelf stood two terrariums, one containing two large rats, the other a black garter snake. On an unmade bed sat a youth Dybbuk was vaguely familiar with. He had earbuds in and on his lap laid a cherry red guitar that fit his hair dye.

"Oh, hey dad. What's up?" Rudyard Teer asked, taking the earbuds out. "Can't you knock?"

"I did knock. Twice" Iblis said tiredly, as if this conversation got repeated regularly. "Listen, you remember Dybbuk?"

"Oh. Him. Yeah" Rudyard said without enthusiasm.

"He'll be sleeping here until we figure out what to do with him."

"Oh come on...really...?"

"Yep. I said so, it's the law. I'll be off now. Don't kill each other." With that, Iblis closed the door, leaving the two boys alone.

Rudyard spared Dybbuk no more than a cursory glance, then he started plucking his guitar again.

"Are those your rats? And the snake?" Dybbuk asked.

"Yeah. The rats are called Lennon and Cobain. The snake's name is Hendrix. After the musicians. You've probably never heard of them."

"Um, yes I have."

"Well done" Rudyard said sarcastically. "So, what is that?" He played something on his guitar.

"Pfff, easy" Dybbuk snorted. "Rise Against."

"Easy indeed. And this?" He played another riff, one that Dybbuk had never heard before. "Nirvana?" he guessed.

"The _Ramones_ " Rudyard corrected, rolling his eyes. "Idiot. Oh wait, you only know one Ramones song, and that's Blitzkrieg Bop. You know, the one you think is called 'Hey Ho let's go'. Double idiot."

"Oh yeah? You think you're the only real rock fan on earth, huh?"

"Naah. I just think you're a little poser bitch. Also, you're going to have to scram tonight, my girlfriend is coming over."

"Right, as if you had a girlfriend."

"I have. I can be nice. Just not to you."

"This is all wrong" Dybbuk muttered, more to himself than to Rudyard. "Evil people aren't supposed to have _girlfriends_."

Rudyard, who had of course overheard, snorted. "And how are we supposed to procreate?"

"I thought your... _our_ father had a pretty good way."

"Listen, don't say shit like that around the others" Rudyard said solemnly. "They're pretty protective of dad. And of each other. And you are the only one in the family who came to be that way."

Dybbuk sighed. "This place is so weird. You are all so weird."

"Well we think you are weird. What's up with you?"

"This whole place...and your little Happy Family shtick...it's all so _disgustingly_ cozy. I mean, you've got a literal pet snake...and the way you guys stick out for each other, it's just _revolting_... are you guys even really evil...?"

Suddenly Rudyard was very close, his eyes glittering with malice. "And what do you know about evil, you special fucking baby snowflake? You think it's all fun and games and making a name. _Uuh huuh, I'm the big-ass evil Ifrit, I know no mercy! People who depend on other people are weak!_ Fuck you. My brothers – each of them – have a kill count you couldn't even dream of. We have lived the Ifrit life, and we have seen some fucked up shit. So are _you_ trying to tell us that _we_ are doing evil wrong? Because _you_ are doing punk rock wrong. The best thing you can do in this house, is keeping your trap shut and learning while you still can."

Then Rudyard flopped back on the bed and plugged the earbuds in again, treating Dybbuk like he didn't exist.

"This is nothing like I imagined" Dybbuk muttered to himself.

Later, when he found that Rudyard indeed had a girlfriend, and she was Philippa Gaunt, he was more shocked than he cared to admit.


	25. Djinn Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High time for another chapter from Nimrod's POV, is it not? So here's Nimrod's first djinn duel. He told no one how he won it...

Nimrod was nervous. After all, this was his first ever djinn duel. He had not done this before.

But, well, he had been challenged, by Rajmus the Ifrit, who seemed to be an expert of sorts at this thing.

Rajmus, the challenger, had opened the duel and swallowed one of Nimrod's pills (a harmless one), now it was Nimrod's turn. He felt he was starting to sweat profusely. These kinds of djinn duels were supposed to "test a djinn's influence over chance and personal luck" and he had been pretty confident that his influence was bound to prove greater than an Ifrit's. But now he suddenly realized that he saw no way at all to influence these three identical-looking pills before him. He felt a surging wave of anxiety. Nimrod liked to be in control of a situation, he liked having the upper hand. But now he saw that he had no idea how to weasel out of this. His chances were exactly the same as his opponent's. No tricks to it. It was really just a matter of lucky guessing.

His hand hovered indecisively over the three pills. Any choice he made could mean his imminent death.

" _Don't take the first pill_ " a voice suddenly whispered.

"What?" Nimrod asked.

Across from him, Rajmus looked up and threw him a questioning glare. "Problem, Marid?"

"No, I just...did you just say something?"

The Ifrit shook his head. "Get on with it" he urged.

" _Stupid!"_ the voice hissed. It was very small and very quiet. And it seemed to sound exclusively in Nimrod's head. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to tell him how to win? Did these things happen? But he _knew_ that voice, and it was not his own.

" _You're gonna have to trust me on this"_ the voice came again. " _Make your move now, and don't take the first pill. And by first I mean the one on the left. I know how Rajmus works. It's always the pill on the left with him. He wants a quick victory, and most people start from the left."_

" _How am I to know that I can trust you?"_ Nimrod tried to think back. " _You could be anyone. You could be a trick."_

" _If I was, I would probably choose a subtler approach. Now go on, will you."_

Now he still didn't know whether to trust the voice or not. But he had to do _something_ , and he had to do it now, so he took his chance and swallowed the pill on the right.

He sat there for a few seconds waiting for death.

Death did not come.

And his opponent's disgruntled face told him that he had won this round.

Now it was Rajmus' turn again. Nimrod had placed his pills randomly, so not even he knew which one contained the diminuendo. The Ifrit took the one that had originally been in the middle. He was nervous too. He had no superior method of guessing _better_.

Actually, his guess was _worse_.

Nimrod was just as surprised as Rajmus as the diminuendo binding worked and the evil djinn just sort of crumpled up into himself and disappeared, with the last thing Nimrod saw of him being the horrible expression on his face that was sure to give him nightmares.

And then Nimrod was alone.

"I killed him" he whispered.

"Yeah, so you did" a voice behind him said. It was the same voice that had helped him earlier, only louder this time.

He turned around and saw that someone had just materialized from seemingly nowhere, probably he had been hidden in a nearby wall or object in his astral body. It was... _Iblis?_

"You?!" Nimrod asked, shocked. "What do you – why did you just-"

"Oh _shut up_ " Iblis hissed. "That was...worse than idiotic of you, Marid. What were you even thinking, going around _dueling_ people like that?!"

"Wha-"

" _I said shut up_. I swear to God. Were you just feeling suicidal lately? Were you actively _trying_ to get yourself killed there? Do you have any idea how the chances of winning such a stupid duel are? Do you have any idea of anything, and why do I even let you leave the house on your own? You almost gave me a bloody heart attack there, if it weren't for me you would most probably be dead right now! Are you doing this on purpose to annoy me?! Now what exactly is your excuse for getting into stupid shit like that?"

Nimrod was baffled. His greatest enemy turning up at his first djinn duel and scolding him for being reckless was nothing he had anticipated. "What do you want?" he tried to defend himself. "He challenged me."

"That's not a reason for you to accept."

"Well, someone had to stop him anyway. Rajmus has been a problem lately..."

" _Rajmus has been a problem lately_ " Iblis mimicked, his voice thick with acid. "And so you decided to play altruistic hero and bloody duel him at the expense of your own stupid fucking life!" Iblis lashed out and slapped Nimrod in the face. Nimrod, caught in a cloud of bewilderment, didn't even notice much.

"What-?"

"I am sick of you! You and your stupid hero complex, ugh, I hate you!"

Nimrod had his experience with Iblis in this particular mood, and felt the sudden urge to duck behind something. But Iblis didn't direct his rage at him, but at the table with the leftover pills. He flipped it over, kicked it a few times, then it spontaneously caught fire and, at last, exploded. Only a small heap of ash was left.

"Well" Nimrod said carefully. "Now you have destroyed something, are you calmer now?"

Iblis exhaled and rubbed his temples. "A bit, yes."

"Good, mind telling me what this is all about now? Is it because of him?" He gestured towards the chair that Ramjus had occupied before his demise.

"No. I would have bloody killed him anyway, if you hadn't done it already. I've no use for subordinates who can't even follow simple orders. The nerve of this guy! I _told_ everyone you were off-limits!"

"I'm...what?"

"How dare he! And how dare you!" Iblis said, angrily pacing back and forth. "Getting _killed_ by someone who is _not me_!"

"Oh!" Now Nimrod started to see what this was all about. It was...bizarre, and slightly mad, but it was a hundred percent Iblis. "But he didn't kill me" he dared to softly put in.

"Yes, but! He could have!"

"But he didn't."

"Only because I intervened."

Nimrod shrugged. "So you did. And you disposed of one of your own people for my sake. Wasn't he even family of yours?"

"A cousin or something. Who cares. He was from my father's side of the family. I couldn't bloody stand him anyway."

"So you're a cousin-cide now. Being the one to personally kill me must be very important to you. Or..." Nimrod smiled. "You actually _care_ for _me_."

Of course Iblis objected. "No, I don't. Bloody hell no. Why would I even. I don't have to stand here and get insulted. Really now. The thought alone! _Care_ about some stupid, reckless-"

"Anyhow" Nimrod interrupted. "You saved my life. And I am thankful."

"Only in order to take it myself" Iblis said with the ghost of a smile. "So don't be."

"Are you going to do that now? Kill me?" Nimrod asked.

Iblis sighed. "No..."

"Whyever not?"

"That would mean that _we_ duel. And as we both know, we amount to about the same, powers-wise. Unlike you, I'm not down with risking failure. Someday I will have a failsafe plan, and _then_ you're going down. But not today."

"Or" Nimrod smiled, "You do care after all." He felt something warm and glowing in his chest. The knowledge that _Iblis cares_ for some reason was somehow much better than the feeling that came with having had his first successful djinn duel. So when Iblis made him promise to _never do that shit again_ , he gladly did. He didn't want this again, the clammy suspense, death – either his or his opponent's – as a certainty. He abhorred killing from the bottom of his heart. So, he swore, no more djinn duels for him.

But Nimrod still led an eventful life, and dangers still lurked. Most of the time, whenever he got into a precarious situation, it was his wits, his djinn powers or his persuasiveness that saved him. But from time to time, when all hope was lost, people, his adversaries, just randomly seemed to drop dead and doors just opened by themselves. Sometimes, on these occasions, Nimrod could just see him: a shadow in the dark, a familiar focus word, whispered, the glint on moonlight on fair hair. And, once, a sticky note attached to the forehead of a corpse, saying "You idiot".

One time, when djinn society in general and Nimrod in particular had been threatened by a ruthlessly efficient organization of djinn hunters, Iblis had personally walked into their headquarters armed only with a small handgun, freed Nimrod and single-handedly burned the building and everyone in it to the ground.

Because only Iblis got to kill Nimrod, and everyone who tried to take his kill had to perish. His own hand or none. And that was the reason. The _only_ reason. Shut up, yes it was.

Because, in his own weird, twisted way, Iblis did care.


	26. Alexandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One possible reaction of Iblis when he finds out about Alexandra.

It is a seemingly normal evening for Nimrod when, out of the blue, two Ifrit materialize in his library.

Now, Nimrod isn't the shoot-first-ask-questions-later type, but as soon as the two clouds of black smoke take human shape, he takes action.

"QWERTYUI-"

"Parlay!" one of the Ifrit shouts.

Quite similar to pirates, djinn have the right to parlay. It's written down in the Bagdad rules. But there is also a right to decline parlay, and Nimrod is inclined to use it as he looks these two fellows over.

They are _eeeeevil_ djinn. They are also of the opinion that evilness is best displayed by wearing greasy leather jackets, slicked back dark hair and sunglasses at night. Nimrod is vaguely reminded of Iblis in his Eighties phase, except that Iblis somehow managed back then to make leather jackets look classy. These two of his underlings have not quite gotten the hang of it. Nimrod, not being intimidated by them, sees no use in fighting just now.

"What do you want to parlay about?" he asks. "And how did you even get in here?"

"We have our ways" one says.

"Our leader wants to speak to you" the other adds.

"Iblis? Then why didn't he just phone me? He's got my number, somehow."

"Our leader wishes to speak to you in person" a third voice suddenly says in his back.

_There's a third one?_ Nimrod spins around, but not fast enough. The last thing he sees is a piece of wood making contact with his forehead. Then everything goes black.

* * *

 

When he wakes up again, he is apparently being driven around in a car – _apparently_ because he's also blindfolded and has to go by the sound of the engine. He is neither tied nor gagged, but someone has put him under a Sesquipedalian binding, because, as he soon finds out, he is unable to utter his focus word. So he just settles for being sensibly quiet.

At some point they leave the car and enter a building. The Ifrit thugs lead Nimrod up some stairs, and through some hallways, until at last they end up in a room that _contains Iblis_ – Nimrod knows that with empathic certainty as soon as he steps through the door. He doesn't even know how he knows it – smell, perhaps. Nimrod has a very fine sense of smell.

The blindfold is yanked off, and he finds himself in a tastefully furnished study, the walls lined with bookshelves. He can't see much of the room, though; it's dark. A single lamp illuminates a desk littered with papers of all kind. Nimrod can make out something that looks like a census study, some official-looking forms concerning the profit made in several casinos, letters and a pencil sketch of a city skyline. Behind the desk, indeed, is Iblis, toying with a letter opener. At least Nimrod hopes it's a letter opener; it looks more like a small, mean dagger really.

He stands there and just waits as Iblis dismisses his minions. When they are alone, Iblis says: "Marid. Please excuse this whole abduction, rather tedious I know. But I needed a word with you in private."

"Is this a kind of parlay?" Nimrod asks.

"Kind of."

"Is this drawing yours?"

Iblis shuffles some papers on his desk, making the drawing disappear. Now Nimrod also notes the framed picture of the Teer family next to the lamp. How cute.

"As you probably are aware of, I have some prominent Marid under surveillance, you of course being one of them" Iblis explains, pointedly not answering the question. "To make this short, I did some snooping around, and I happened upon something most peculiar." He takes a folder from the desk and opens it.

Nimrod's fist panicked reaction is _Oh no, oh no, what does he know, what did he find out?_ His second thought is _Why, that's silly. I've got nothing to hide from him._

He is completely thrown off ground when Iblis remarks, in a voice carefully kept neutral of all emotions: "I never knew you had a _wife_."

"What? Alexandra? You had me dragged here to talk about _Alexandra_?"

"Why don't you explain yourself first, Marid, and doubt my decision later."

"Explain...what? How many times have _you_ been married?"

Iblis raises an eyebrow. "Let's just say _several_. What I want you to explain is...how come I hear of her only now? I mean, the woman is a powerful djinn and your wife. Why has she never come up?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly bring her up while fighting..."

"No, but maybe you _should have_ brought her up at a suitable occasion...like one of the not very cleverly veiled advances you made on my person over the years. Don't even try to deny that now, we both know. A pity, Marid. I pegged you as one of the last truly good individuals in a cruel, heartless world. If I was to find out that you were, in reality, just a cheating little piece of filth, I would be genuinely disappointed."

_Wait...what?_ Nimrod is shocked. _Did Iblis Teer, most renowned evil djinn in the world, just accuse me of cheating on my wife with him? With a tone of honest sadness in his voice?_

"No...it's not...not like that at all" he tries to defend himself. "We...Alexandra and I...we broke up, see, we're technically only married on the paper."

"Oh I know that. Let's talk about it, shall we? How you broke up."

"What?"

Iblis laughs, a small, hard, mirthless laugh. "Marid, Marid. Seriously? I'm not the jealous type. If anything were to ever...happen...between the two of us, I would definitely cheat on you. I'd cheat on you _so much_. I'm not a nice man to be in a relationship with. I nag, I have mood swings, I come home late, I participate in questionable activities, I always hog the blankets, I drink – like, a lot – and you'd have to put up with my large, dysfunctional family. You cheating on your estranged wife now and again is pretty forgivable compared to that. I'm not mad because you never told me that there's someone else. I'm mad because when she became too hard to handle, you _dumped her in Afghanistan_ and then tried your best to absolutely forget her. While, and I feel I need to stress that, she was struggling with mental illness. Like, don't do that? It really is surprising what you _good guys_ can get away with."

Nimrod doesn't reply to that, on account of being speechless. He has to admit that this sounds a lot more unpleasant out of Iblis' mouth than he had ever considered it to be.

And then the evil djinn adds in a very quiet voice: "And now I naturally ask myself: If we were...you know...if we ever...started something or whatever...would this happen to me? When you'd finally say goodbye to your fucking delusions and see me as the messed up psycho I am, would you dump me like you dumped her? Where would I go, North Korea? Or no wait, Iraq. Apparently war zones are always best for dumping unstable loved ones."

"No..." Nimrod stutters weakly. "It's not...not like that at all...and besides, you are not..."

"I am not...what? Not messed up? Not as unimportant as the woman who loved you? Not the evil fuck-up who has done nothing but disappoint you and screw with your life since day one, but instead a precious person in some way? _Wake the fuck up_."

"Now, you got this all wrong. _She_ left _me_ because she needed to join the eremites for some reason!"

"She was mentally unstable, Nimrod. You should have gotten her professional help instead of wallowing in your hurt male pride and taking everything she said at face value. God, I can't believe I actually have to teach you how to be good. I'm literally the worst person for it."

Iblis paces angrily while Nimrod watches. He's still dumbstruck. Then Iblis turns back to him and asks with forced calm: "Now where exactly does that woman live?"

* * *

 

A few days later, Iblis is in Afghanistan. Finding the Penthouse in which Alexandra Godwin lives has been incredibly easy – everyone who is anyone knows her. Apparently she is famous for both her prophecies and her notorious temper...and, of course, her exquisite beauty.

The door is opened forcefully before he can even ring the doorbell. He is face to face with a stunningly gorgeous woman, maybe the most beautiful one he has ever seen...and Iblis has seen many beautiful women. Her skin is very dark, and luscious black waves of hair fall down on her back. Her face is that of a woman who knows that she's an absolute queen. She wears a golden silk sari and a lot of traditional Indian jewelry...a bit of a strange sight in Afghanistan. And her proportions are absolutely _godly_. Hell, there are goddesses out there who would _murder_ to look like Alexandra. The look she gives Iblis somehow makes him wish he had done something with his hair before coming here. And all of this is the wife of _Nimrod Godwin?_

"I have foreseen your coming, Iblis Teer" she announces.

"Really? Hi" Iblis replies, giving her his most winning smile.

"Now what could an Ifrit want from me? Do you want your fortune told?"

"Maybe. First of all I want you to let me in..."

Alexandra huffs. "This is about him, right? Nimrod."

"Only partially, ma'am. I heard about Nimrod's wife from a neutral source and got curious. I have read up on you and your...predicament. Not the foresight one, the other. The one that Nimrod left you for."

"You mean my...temper."

"Yes. And, well, guess who else has two thumbs and is notorious for temper tantrums? Basically...I know what it's like to carry a lot of unsolicited rage around with you. I know how it gets hard to manage, and how everyone just seems out to piss you off, and then things, you know, fade into static and you slip up, sometimes, and then things get destroyed. Please let me talk to you."

Alexandra lets him in without a further word.

* * *

 

Two hours later they are sitting in her living room disregarding the coffee that has long gone cold in their cups and exchanging stories. Somehow they have, predictably, drifted from anger management to the only other thing that connects them: Nimrod.

"You know, when we were newlyweds, everything seemed perfect. He was perfect" Alexandra explains. "He was a gentleman. Not like most other men I was used to from home. My family is very traditional. If Nimrod hadn't whisked me away to London, my father would have probably arranged a marriage for me."

"So that is why..."

"No" Alexandra interrupts. "That is _not_ the only reason I went with him. I loved him. He was kind, cultured, generous, open-minded, and he treated me like a princess. When I saw London, and the great house I was to live in, and all the finery...I was amazed. We had our disagreements, surely, but that's just what...married couples are like."

"But then you broke up."

"Yes...that's kind of a long story."

"I'm all ears."

"Alright. One thing we fundamentally disagreed on was the best way to maintain the homeostasis."

"The homeostasis is a fairytale. Kinda like 'the thing women want'."

"No, it's not!" Alexandra snaps, her eyes suddenly full of anger. "And could you _please_ not interrupt me when I'm talking? You know I really _hate that_."

"Sure, ma'am" Iblis says diplomatically.

"Anyway" Alexandra says, taking a deep, calming breath. "Nimrod. And the homeostasis. I believed the best way was to help the mundanes in a quiet way, like the eremites do. But he believed, above all, in fighting...you. The Ifrit. The casinos..."

"Ah yes, the casinos" Iblis smirks. "He wasted a lot of his time trying to bring those down. As far as gambling is concerned, the mundanes want no help and won't listen to reason. That's why we're still so successful."

"Whatever you say. Well, as time passed, I noticed how his fight wasn't...all about the good in the world. It was also personal...it was somehow about Nimrod himself. It was an odd feeling, and I first passed it off as just me imagining things...but as I had begun to take notice, it got more and more obvious...he was fixated, I'd almost say obsessed, not with smiting evil, but with...you."

"What? Me?"

"You. Iblis Teer. You. He kept a picture of you in his wallet, for heaven's sake! Told me it was there to remind him why he fights. So that's the reason you fight? I wanted to ask him. An attractive blond male? _What?"_

Iblis chuckles quietly. "Attractive blond male...good one."

"I'm not kidding! I felt awful! And he always went after you, fought you or confronted you about something...and he talked about you! _All the time!_ Until I felt like I was _competing_ with you for my husband's attention!...Well, and then the tragedy with my brother happened and changed everything anyway."

"You know, that wasn't my intention, to have Nimrod fall for me. Not really."

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, I should have known what I was getting into, I guess. He was just in denial the whole time. You know the one thing that was not perfect, right from the start?"

"No...Oh, don't say it, let me guess; the suits?"

Alexandra giggles. "Not the suits. I mean, they're horrible, yes, but when you find a man that is so _good_ , you can forgive his lack of fashion sense. I'm talking about the _sex_."

"The...sex."

"The sex. It was just...not good. Like he put up an effort for my sake, but he wasn't in it with his heart."

Iblis ponders on that. He has known Nimrod for a long time. To say that, in their oddest of relationships, there have been absolutely zero encounters that turned sexual would be a bit of a lie. On the rare occasion that something has happened, Iblis remembers the experience being...surprisingly satisfactory. And his standards are pretty high there.

Then Alexandra says: "I have to ask. If Nimrod ever...would you..."

"...kill him?"

"No. Not that."

"Ah. You mean..."

"Yes."

"Huh."

"Would you?"

"I don't think so."

"So you absolutely...I mean, if he went and straight out proposed...you would decline him?"

"Who knows what I would do?"

"But you just said...!"

"I said I don't _think_ I would. That's not a definite _no_."

"You are..."

"A scumbag?"

"An honest man" Alexandra finishes.

Iblis laughs his cynical laugh again. "I'm not honest."

"But you don't _lie_."

Over their conversation, it has gotten dark. As none of them bothered to put on a light, they are now sitting in semi-darkness.

Iblis reaches over and lays his hand over hers. "Some women seem to want to believe that" he whispers in her ear. "That I won't lie to them...that I'm not all that bad..."

She spins her head around and bites forcefully into his lower lip, drawing blood. "Lie to me and die."

Iblis licks the blood from his lips before he kisses her.

* * *

 

One day later, Nimrod (safely back at home) picks up his cell phone and sees that Iblis has sent him a picture. He opens it and sees a sight that makes his jaw drop. The picture shows Iblis in bed, a horribly smug expression on his face. Alexandra is curled around him smiling, with her head on his chest. None of them is wearing any clothes. At least Alexandra has draped her leg over his crotch so that there's not too much indecency. Nimrod stares, not knowing if he should scream or faint or what. The picture is captioned: _I'm banging your wife, Marid._

Nimrod, shaking his head about the madness of fate, texts back: _Yes, Iblis...yes you are._

* * *

 

Iblis stays at Alexandra's for two more weeks. Their relationship consists of anger management, exchanging anecdotes about Nimrod and nice, casual sex. Until one night, Alexandra wakes him up with tears in her eyes.

"I just had a vision of your future" she whispers in a grave voice.

Iblis yawns. "Are you sure it wasn't just a bad dream?"

"Don't be stupid. I know dreams, and I know visions. There is a difference between the both."

"Okay, so...my future? Do I want to know?"

"Your future. And whether or not you want to know is not important; I can't tell you anyway."

"What? Why not?"

"Such is the nature of my curse. I thought you read about that too."

"I just know that you can tell people's fortunes, but they keep forgetting them. I have no idea how that actually works."

"Well, I see the future. Sometimes it's like looking through a keyhole: a few blurry images that make no sense. Sometimes it is crystal clear. But no matter how it is: I can't tell people. It's a bit like a Sesquipedalian binding, where one can't pronounce a certain word. I open my mouth, I try to describe to people what I see, but all that comes out is gibberish. _Angry_ gibberish." She shakes her pretty head in despair.

"It's alright, you needn't tell me" Iblis tries to soothe. "Was it much that you saw?"

"Everything. In horrible clarity. I saw your death, Iblis."

"My death" he repeats. "Was it...?"

"You didn't look much older than now."

"Djinn age well" he tries to shrug the matter off with a smile. But Alexandra only shakes her head again and cries some more.

"Oh. Was it...untimely?"

"Yes."

"Cruel?"

"Very."

"Will it hurt?" They both know it's a childish question. Iblis is ashamed that it slipped past his lips. "Is it a good death?" he asks on. "You know, one to go down in djinn history?"

Alexandra hesitates, then she nods.

"Then all is well" Iblis remarks, but they both know it's not.

At last he asks: "Is it definite?"

Alexandra exhales shakily. "The future is never set in stone. Right now, though, I can only think of one thing we both can do."

* * *

 

Back in England, the recent events have taken their toll on Nimrod. He can't stop thinking about Alexandra and Iblis, undoubtedly the two most important people in his life outside of the family, now in connection. Whenever his thoughts stray to one of them, he feels a sting of guilt. What Iblis has said about his break-up with Alexandra hits a bit too close to home.

One night, he wakes up from a strange, confusing dream that involved her somehow, and can't help feeling sad. But the sadness makes way to another feeling: the feeling that there's someone else with him in the bedroom. And not just any someone else. He senses djinn powers, lots and lots of djinn powers.

But the shock and fear that should follow such a realization oddly don't happen. He lies calmly and listens as they approach the bed. Then the footsteps cease, indicating that whoever it is is standing right beside the bed now. And then Nimrod, with his impeccable nose, smells it.

It is the smell of Alexandra's sweet, sensual, flowery perfume, but not only that. There is also a man's cologne, sharp and fresh with an undercurrent of other, fainter smells: aftershave, cigarettes, hair product, and just a small hint of alcohol and snakes.

The bed creaks as one, no two additional weights settle down on it. In the darkness, Alexandra snuggles up against his back while Iblis turns _his_ back and scoots close, an almost aggressive silent invitation to spoon him. Nimrod smiles and wraps an arm around the both of them. "You two came back...thank you" he whispers.

"Oh shut up, you dork" Iblis replies.

Nimrod smiles into the darkness, thinking again about the mad turns his life is taking.

* * *

 

When Nimrod, later, asks Iblis why they have returned, Iblis shrugs and says: "She saw something in the future, something about my death, and apparently she thinks that you can change something."

"Your _death_? But...when? How?"

"No idea. Liver failure, probably."

" _Liver failure_? Iblis...did you just admit to your drinking problem...? I've been waiting for that to happen since-"

" _You heard nothing_."


	27. Diary of Rudyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. Rudyard's an awful diary writer tho, so the entries are sometimes dated months, if not years apart.

Hello diary. My name is Rudyard Teer, and I am six years old.

I just found you today. It was odd. Yesterday was my birthday, but you turned up this morning on the doorstep all wrapped up like a present and stuff. But it didn't say who from. I asked Daddy and he said he didn't know where you came from either, but since you're just a book and not dangerous at all, I get to keep you. I hope we become good friends. I don't have many, apart from my brothers, and they don't count, they're family. Dad sometimes takes me to play with that girl Lilith de Ghulle, but she's hideous. But she said that keeping a diary is cool, so I'm gonna do that too.

Lilith said today that every child has to have a mommy and a daddy, otherwise there would be no child. I don't believe her because I got no mom at all and I don't need one either. Lilith is a dirty liar.

* * *

I wonder where my mommy is. I saw that all my friends have one, and some of my brothers have one too, but I haven't. Should I ask dad about it?

* * *

I asked Odair about his mommy today, since he doesn't have one, just like me. He said he had one once, but she died long ago. It's very sad that Odair's mommy died.

* * *

Okay, so I just talked to dad. I asked him if what Lilith had said was true. He said yes and that Lilith hadn't lied to me at all. Then I asked him why it was that I had no mommy at all when all of my friends and some of my brothers had one and you have to have one to make a child.

Dad said "Sure you have a mother, Rudyard, she's just not here."

I asked: "Did she die?" because I remembered that Odair's mom died.

"I think not" dad said. "I think she's very fine indeed. She just went away."

"Why?" I said.

"Because Daddy has been stupid, Rudyard, and made several stupid mistakes. And then Mommy and Daddy had a big fight and Mommy ran away and hasn't returned since."

"Then why don't you just find her?" I asked.

"I respect your mom's decision not to want to live with me anymore. If she ever changes her mind, she can come right back. I'm not going to force her into anything, because she would not like that. You should respect your woman, Rudyard, when you're grown up that is." He looked a bit sad when he said that. Anyway, I asked him what my mom was like.

"Well, what to tell you? You have her hair, her eyes, her skin... you've a lot of her. She smiles like you, she pouts like you, she bites her lips when she's mad like you. She loves long journeys – I like to imagine that that's what she does now, journeying. She's very fierce, and beautiful."

"Do you miss her?" I asked.

"Um, sometimes... I guess."

"Do you think she misses you, too?"

Dad laughed. "No. Not at all. She has little love for me."

"But what about me?" I wanted to know. "Doesn't she love me?"

"Rudyard, really, I think she does. Maybe she comes back for you one day. But even if she doesn't, she probably loves you. And then there's still your brothers and I ."

I felt a bit better then. Still I wonder if I get to meet my mom one day.

* * *

I found out today that I have a little brother! His name is Dybbuk. He's not that much younger, a year or so. But it's nice not being the littlest one anymore. I asked if I got to meet little bro Dybbuk one day, but Dad said no because Dybbuk is a half-tribe (whatever that is) and his mother would forbid that. They tried to explain to me what dad had done. I didn't understand all of it, but it sounded fishy to me. I asked dad about respecting women, as he told me to do? And why did he not do that? Dad said: "Sometimes we give advice we really should be listening to". Or something like that? I'm confused now.

* * *

Dear diary it just happened I JUST SAW MY MOM.

When I came home from school, dad was with a woman. She was very tall and looked pretty, but a bit scary. Her hair was the same color as mine. When I came in, dad said to me: "Son, meet your mother."

"Hi" the woman said. She didn't even really look at me.

"Hello mom" I said back.

"Are you enjoying your diary?" she asked.

I didn't know what to say, so dad said I should go to my room and do my homework. Anyway, I listened at the door to hear what they were talking.

"I hope you don't mistreat him" mom said.

"I would never" dad said.

"You probably spoil him rotten" mom said. "What's his name, anyway?"

"Rudyard" dad said, "And I think he misses you. Or having a mother in general."

"Well I'm not moving back in with you and your spawn. Not for the world" mom said. Then she called dad some pretty nasty names, but he didn't get mad at her. In fact, he didn't say anything back.

So she sent me the diary, but she doesn't even know my name? I don't think I want anything to do with mom anymore.

* * *

Lilith said today that keeping a diary wasn't cool anymore. Why is that? Should I stop writing it now?

I asked dad. He said: "What Lilith says is 'cool' shouldn't bother you. Just do what you enjoy. That's what being you is all about. She's just saying that because she became bored with her own diary, and you know why that is? Because she's too lazy and dimwitted to carry anything through. Don't let it affect you." I asked how he knew that stuff about Lilith, and he said "Because I know her mother, and Lilith is just like her in every way."

Mothers really seem like a kinda stupid thing to have.

* * *

Something very nearly magical happened today. It was a rainy day, and we were all sitting around inside. Dad was reading, me and my brothers were just hanging around talking. Jonny was tinkering with that old gramophone player he had found. Jonny's really good with such things, but he couldn't get this thing to run. We had all given up hope on it, when Jonny suddenly yelled that he'd gotten it to work! He put on the old record that had been in there when he found it, and really! it started playing a scratchy version of "Gimme Shelter" and next thing I knew we were all slowly dancing in a circle around it, even Odair with his girlfriend, even Dad. Turned out Dad's a pretty okay dancer and even knew some Rolling Stones lyrics. Weird. He always said he hates guitars.

* * *

I asked dad why he hated guitars. He said "Your mother was in a band."

Huh?

Odair wants to propose to his girlfriend. He's soooo nervous he never shuts up. I think dad is proud. When I grow up, I'm gonna have the best girlfriend ever!

* * *

I'm turning ten today and there's a present from mom! It's a guitar!

* * *

Dad lets me keep the guitar! and play it and stuff! Mom has sent some sheet music and a list of bands I should look into! WOW!

* * *

JIMI HENDRIX IS THE BEST GUY EVER. One day I'm gonna be as good as him.

* * *

I wonder when will I get my djinn powers. Dad is out to fight the Marid again and I hope he's careful he kicks their asses and I can help him soon...

* * *

Dear diary, Dad was hurt last night. He came home really late, I wasn't supposed to be awake, but I woke up. Odair had waited up for him. They had left the door open a little, so I could peek as Odair patched Dad up. He was bleeding a lot. The blood went _everywhere_. It all looked a bit gross. Odair asked: "Nimrod again?" Dad said: "Yeah, he won't stop 'till I'm dead, I guess."

Who is Nimrod? I feel like I hate him. In fact, I want to kill him. No one gets to hurt Dad like that.

I hope I get my djinn powers soon so I can kill him REALLY BADLY.

* * *

Dear diary, I can't believe this is happening. This is the best day of my life. My wisdom teeth came out today! That means I can have my Tammuz & my djinn powers soon! Aww Yesss! It's going to rock! Having my djinn powers will be so awesome!

Weird thing is, dad didn't seem as happy as I was when he got the news. Hmm, I wonder why that is.

Going to have the surgery tomorrow. I'm so excited...

* * *

I'm going into the desert this night, all alone, for my Tammuz. My brothers said I had nothing to be scared about, but I'm not so sure. I'll be all alone, after all. Got to go now, I'll tell you all about how the night went tomorrow.

* * *

Wow. Just...wow. Tammuz was kind of...intense. Got told about good and evil and stuff. Apparently I'm evil. Well, dad said it just means I get to do whatever I want, so that's not too bad.

* * *

Dad is going to Cairo today on official business, and he doesn't want me to come with. He says it will be dangerous as there will be Marid there. Man, I can't wait to get to fight these bastards. I wish dad would take me with! I'm staying with Odair and his wife as long as he's gone.

* * *

Something awful has happened to dad; I just heard. Apparently he got caught and put in a bottle by some Marid. I heard it was that Nimrod guy, and his niece and nephew. Odair says they're about my age. Maybe one/two years younger. What the fuck!

Whatever will happen to dad now? I sure hope the Marid don't kill him, that would make me half an orphan! Oh well, could just as well be full orphan, on account of mom never being there and stuff.

I feel kind of misplaced with Odair and his wife. I mean, they're building up their own little family home, and I'm kind of in the way. Of course Odair is nice to me because he feels he has to look out for me, but I'm pretty sure he's not exactly thrilled about his little bro hanging around. That's just 'dair for you: Always trying to be the surrogate father that dad sometimes isn't...if you get my drift, diary?

And on top of all this, my stupid Geography teacher has nothing better to do than complain about me being "tardy" in her lessons! She wants to talk to my parents about it. Just great! What do I tell the old hag? "My father is imprisoned in a bottle and my mother is a heart-of-ice bitch that is never there, so I'm afraid they can't come to the parent-teacher-conference"? Maybe I should just turn her into a fruit bat. Or a mayfly! Or a rat!

* * *

Dear diary! People are saying that dad is to be trialed by Ayesha...that's the blue djinn. She's said to be a crusty old lady who has no mercy for ANYONE. That'll sure go awry...

My band is playing their first concert today. Dad promised to come, but I guess that's kinda impossible now. Same goes for Jonny's football game next week.

* * *

You won't believe what happened, diary! It all started with the message that dad is going to serve a ten-year-sentence ON VENUS. The family is VERY unhappy, but there's not much anyone can do. The good djinn, they get all the luck AND political influence. Odair says they're like the ultimate lobby. Not sure what that means but it can't be good.

And then it happened: Mom came over. I'm living with her now. She said she heard of what happened to dad and that it was now time for her to perform her duty as a parent. She has an apartment in the city where I'm now living. You can see that she isn't here often, the place looks kind of bleak, not like anyone's actually _living_ here, you know what I'm saying...? Anyway, being with mom is weird. She can be nice and friendly sometimes, and she has a cool guitar and a cool motorbike. But sometimes she's all distant like she doesn't care about me at all, and the way she speaks of dad...like he was the devil or something. Wonder why she hates him so much.

* * *

Tonight mom drove me over to the djinnverso tournament. It's not like I practiced much, after all the stuff that happened recently, but well, it was the first time that mom offered to drive me anywhere, so I went. And guess who was there and I had to play against?! FUCKING Philippa Gaunt. And, I have to admit, she pretty much handed my ass to me. God, I hate her. Why's she so intelligent and friendly and stuff?! Her red hair looked a bit pretty, also. How dare she? How absolutely dare she just swoop in with her pretty red hair and kick ass and! After all that happened to dad! But she got disqualified later because she tricked someone or something. I took care to laugh extra hard at her. Ha ha! Take that, Philippa Gaunt!

* * *

Dear diary: I felt like a style change so I asked mom to dye my hair red. This has nothing to do with Philippa Gaunt, don't look at me like that! It's a nice cherry red that fits the color of my guitar. I'll look so cool on stage with it. It was also kind of nice to have mom touch my hair and stuff. Like something a proper mother would do with her son.

* * *

Maybe the red hair wasn't such a good idea after all. My brothers call me "Rudy the red-haired reindeer" now. Jerks. I'm learning to play "Gimme Shelter" now. It reminds me of a few years ago, when things were simpler.

* * *

Hey diary, guess what?! Just got a call from dad! Well, not from dad, but from some mundane dimwit who found his bottle. Dad escaped! Yeah! When mom heard the news, she said: "I knew it. Your father has an uncanny and positively snake-like ability to slither out of things". And then she basically dropped me like a hot potato and left. I'll have to get to French Guinea all by myself. Oh well whatever, dad will be back! Mom can suck it!

* * *

Well, dad is back now, but things aren't what they used to be. Since he was in that bottle, he's just obsessed with revenge. He's gone away to one of the casino hideouts to plan his strategy or whatever, and can't be bothered with us or the tribe duties. Odair and Jared are a bit worried, I think.

* * *

Tonight I had a nightmare that dad died, so I popped over to visit. I told him about the nightmare and that I was kind of worried, and he said what a great son I was and how much he loved me. Damn pity he doesn't say such things when he's sober.

* * *

Sometimes I seriously ask myself if all these weird things ever happen to other djinn kids?! Or is it just this fucked up family?! So it looks like dad has lost his body because he was attacked by two djinn tigers... What the hell, no one knows where these fucking tigers came from! Oh well, at least he didn't die.

* * *

Dad has a new body and also an epic plan to take over the world! And you know what's the absolute greatest thing? I can help! I'll get an own jade suit of armor! I can command djinn warriors and have them eat souls! Yeah! I'll be so badass! Unfortunately, the plan pretty much involves around a very special snowflake Johnathan Tarot. That is little brother Dybbuk, who of course has no idea what he's getting into. And from what I saw of him, he's just a whiny, self-righteous little shit. Dad believes he has potential, but I say fuck him. Also, dad had a hard time reeling some of the brothers in for the plan. Odair at last agreed to help stealing the jade, but he seems to think that the whole Enantodromian thing is a bit loony. I think it's brilliant. 'Dair is probably just jealous that he didn't think of it. Or he doesn't want to risk anything right now because his wife is pregnant and stuff.

* * *

Jade suits are ready to kick ass! The djinn warriors are merrily absorbing souls! And the whole world is getting obsessed with lil bro Dybbuk! Man, it sure is exciting! Finally something _happens_ in here!

* * *

The stupid Marid are getting on to us. They're on their way to China. I'm gonna have to go stop them I guess. Oh well it will be fun.

Philippa Gaunt is with them. But that's not gonna stop me! Bring it on, Philippa! Let's see who wins this time!

* * *

The Marid escaped me. Darn. But it doesn't matter. There's no way they can stop us now. Gotta go now, diary. Dad says to come. The plan is going into final stage today. I'm sure excited! Can't wait to see what world domination feels like! _Evil_ laugh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is the last entry. No other one was ever made...


	28. Scribbles, part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just what y'all wanted huh? No? Anyway

11-yo-me: I've just bought book three!

18-yo-me: _Hello darkness my old friend..._

Ominous prologue: *is ominous*

The prime minister: *has apparently lost his marbles*

**Sudden scene change to Nimrod and Layla with baby twins.**

Nimrod: Your babies are ugly.

Layla: I want you to go away and leave me alone. Like, forever.

Nimrod: Phh! *returns home pouting*

Groanin: There's a...person here to speak to you.

Dr. Warnakulasuriya: Hello sir *kisses Nimrod's hand* I am filled with deep respect to the djinn *hugs Nimrod* and I also love you *licks Nimrod's shoes* please come and help us because the prime minister has lost his marbles.

Nimrod: Uhm...alright...?

Dr. W.: I think he's possessed by a djinn. A djinn who wants to have some guy killed.

Nimrod: Oh dear, whom?

Dr. W.: Oh, it's some horribly outlandish name. Not English at all. I can't even pronounce it, so I wrote it down. *hands over the note with the name*

Nimrod: *reads* Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. *pockets the note, probably for the purpose of dreamily staring at the name and sighing later*

Me: Ominous, ominous!

**Later at Downing Street.**

Angry djinn girl possessing the prime minister: I just wanted to have Iblis killed.

Nimrod: *sigh* Well, don't we all?

Me: Whew, Iblis again! Whenever something weird happens, he's bound to be wrapped up in it, huh? Also, how on earth can Doctor Ruchira P. Warnakulasuriya have problems pronouncing "Iblis"

Angry djinn girl: He ruined my family.

Nimrod: Cool story, sis.

_[_ _Iblis offhand commentary:_ _It's what I do. I ruin families. It's my job. *shrugs* I'm life's trash.]_

Narrator: Uh, by the way, for those who have miraculously forgotten: Iblis is evil. Just coming by real quick to remind you! This guy is no good news. Because he's so evil. Evil evil eeeeeeeeeeevil.

Me: Hmmm. Let's just, for the whole book, exchange the word "evil" for "sexy" and watch the results.

Nimrod: I must confirm. Iblis is the...sexiest djinn in the world. *cough cough* Anyhow, time for you to go. *does cat hair ritual*

Angry djinn girl: *disappears*

Dr. W.: *fanboys in the background*

Narrator: And now to something completely different. Dybbuk stealing some stuff.

Me: *groans* Not Dybbuk...

Narrator: And now to something even more completely different: The twins, planning to have the lamest birthday party ever.

John and Philippa: This is so lame.

Layla: I'm still perfect.

Me: *weary sigh*

Layla: Kids, let me show you your soul mirrors.

Me: PSYCH! Awesome! *develops a thousand headcanons around soul mirrors*

Narrator: That night, some strange guys broke into the house.

Edward: I'm gonna defend my family! RAARGH! I'm the strong, dominant male!

Layla: No darling, let me do this, I'm far more perfect! Only I can beat them! *turns the guys into wine bottles*

**The next morning.**

John: ...and then she turned them into wine bottles.

Philippa: Psych. Oh look what I found! *shows John Ugly Amulet*

Layla: I feel bad because I stopped my husband from promoting negative gender roles (and probably getting hurt) last night. I just hope the two human beings I turned into wine bottles for him to drink will make up for it. Also, look at the cool safety precautions I made for your wisdom teeth.

Philippa: Cool, mom. We found this ugly amulet.

Layla: I'll send it to Nimrod. *eats it* Remember to always diet, girls! *perfect smile*

Nimrod: *throws it up later*

Me: Gee, being a djinn is a sticky business, huh? Always throwing things up...

Mr. Rakshasas: This Ugly Amulet is a symbol of an evil cobra cult. I must go to India to find out more.

Nimrod: I'll come with! *after some consideration* D'you think Iblis could be in with these cobra guys?

Mr. Rakshasas: Naah no.

Nimrod: Nonetheless, I want to find him. For...the twins. Yes.

Me: You could have gone find him right after he escaped...right? But you didn't for some unfathomable reason and now he's out there, well done.

Kindly Mr. Rakshasas: *sees the good in everyone* Iblis is filth. Utter filth.

Nimrod: Umm...let's just look for the cobra guys.

Narrator: Iblis had a score to settle.

Me: Yes yes yeeeees! *swoons*

Author: Ah, no no no. Please, there will be nothing to swoon here.

Me: Mr. Author Man, you obviously don't understand. If this line just said "Iblis was eating toast", I would still swoon. We're gonna have some Iblis-action in this book. That's all that counts.

Author: Um, nah. Actually, to prevent fangirling, I thought of an idea. Let's have our villain act totally repulsive in every way to creep people out.

Me: I found porn.

Iblis: I have lost control of my life. And my facial hair. But mostly my life.

Oleaginus: I'm a house slave. I'm lame and my life sucks.

Me: *screeches* It is an honor to serve the Dark Lord!

Iblis: Agreed. Now you go find the twins and Nimrod for me, and I'll grant you three wishes.

Me: _Me?!_

Iblis: No, not you, fourth wall girl. Him.

Oleaginus: Oh.

Me: _List of things I'd wish for from Iblis:_

-a written book contract

-More drawing talent

-A night. With him. Yeah. Hmm. I wonder what the rules of Baghdad say about djinn getting asked for sexual favors. It must happen a lot, given that they all look soooooo attractive.

**Meanwhile back in New York.**

John: Look here, Phil! A horribly misspelled mail from Dybbuk! He wants us to come out to some island to help him.

Philippa: Jesus Christ, who writes mail anymore?! Couldn't Dybbuk have messaged me on Facebook or something? Also why should we even bother with him? It's not like we're...super good friends. In fact we met only once and he played a pretty mean trick on us. So why help him?

John: Hmmm...because we're bored?

Philippa: True. Let's go.

Afriel: I'm a hobo angel. Here, have two elsewheres so your mom won't freak out. Also, take this cryptic hint: Dybbuk needs your help in more ways than one.

Hindsight: Ha! Ha! *snorts*

**So John and Phil go to Bannerman's Island and meet Dybbuk (aka the Supreme Troll).**

Dybbuk: Alright you guys, I really need your help. Some people have murdered my friends and now they're after me.

Philippa: Uh-huh. And they were after you lucky charms.

Dybbuk: No, after that picture here. *shows them painting with snakes on*

John: Oh look! There's a secret code.

Dybbuk: So, what now?

Twins: When in doubt, always ask Uncle Nimrod. So, we're going to London.

Dybbuk: *gets dragged along to London*

**But unfortunately Nimrod is in India with Mr. Rakshasas. They chat to angels, hunt tigers and have a generally good time. They capture two djinn tigers and bottle them up. Weird thing there: Nimrod tags their bottle with a sticker that says "CAUTION: DJINN TWINS". Instead of, like, DJINN TIGERS which would be far less misleading. Like, someone might try opening the bottle out of some crazy misunderstanding and get eaten...**

Nimrod: Now, that won't happen. That's silly talk!

Hindsight: *facepalms* Nimrod P. Godwin, the P stands for disaster...

Nimrod: It stands for Plantagenet, actually. Who are you anyway?

Hindsight: Hindsight.

Nimrod: Ooooh, can you tell me what will happen in the future?

Hindsight: Well, for one, these tigers will maul your evil boyfriend.

Nimrod: HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND, I JUST RESPECT HIM AS AN ENEMY! Wait, what?!

Narrator: *radiant smile* Don't listen to Hindsight, Hindsight's craaaazy...on with the plot! *points at sky* To London!

**In London.**

Groanin: *arrives and sees twins plus Dybbuk at the door* What are you doing here?

Twins: We're camping out!

Dybbuk: I'm cold.

Groanin: Who the f are you?

Twins: This is Dybbuk. He's in trouble. He broke into a military base and stole some paintings and now there's snake people wanting to kill him.

Groanin: Oh, alright, come in, kids.

**After some chatting up, they check out Mr. Rakshasas's lamp.**

Dybbuk: Holy fudge muffin, it's a library! I hate books! It's cool to hate books, right? I am cool. I'm a cool guy. You hear that, Philippa? I am cool!

Philippa and John: *signs of slight exasperation* Let's just search for clues...

Bottle imp: Aarghwaarghblaargh! I'm intimidating!

Philippa: Oh my gosh!

Bottle imp: *mood swings* I'm also the librarian! Let me bring you any book you want.

Philippa: O...kay!

Book: So basically there were these snake cultists in India who enslaved young Mr. Rakshasas, and this guy had that magic amulet that made him immune to snake bites and that was seven kinds of awesome until! They were all killed by the British. And then that British General guy had that picture painted. You know, the one with the secret code in.

Twins plus Dybbuk: Dang! I guess that means we gotta go to India.

**Meanwhile outside the lamp, Groanin is a badass and battles some snake thug dudes.**

**The plot goes back to India where Nimrod and Mr. Rakshasas manage to get themselves drugged and kidnapped. Nimrod, you walking disaster, you. Also Iblis's unintelligent servants break into their room and snag the bottle with the two tigers. Sigh.**

**The twins, Dybbuk and Groanin also arrive in India. Everyone's in India now. Must be a really awesome place to go to. Seriously, I'd love to travel there. But I digress.**

Dybbuk and Groanin: *have a bitchfest*

John and Philippa: *decipher the secret code in the picture*

Philippa: Okay, the secret message says this British army guy has gone to a place. It's a lucky place. But he'll also die there. And then there's a lot of jabbering about snakes.

John: This doesn't make sense.

Groanin and Dybbuk: *continue bitching at each other*

Suddenly Dybbuk: Lucknow.

Everyone: What?

Dybbuk: We have to go to Lucknow. That's the place.

Everyone: How?

Dybbuk: I'm allowed to know something once in a while too, okay?!

Me: He's still unbearable.

Philippa: I hate it when he's right...

Me: Sister, I feel you.

**So they hop on a whirlwind and fly to Lucknow. On the way there, they get lost in some mountains and run into a yeti who really is a guy with a really stupid name. But he's not that important, so they leave again. They end up at the Ashram of that insane, disgusting guru guy. God, this guy, I can't even write about him, ew ew eeewww. Opposed to the amount of pure** _**ick** _ **this guy has going on, Iblis losing control of his facial hair over in Vegas is class impersonated. He also has a call center that is the most devilish thing I've ever had the enormous displeasure to read of. Seriously, I got worried about the author when I read that book.**

**Anyway, they find out that the disgusting guru is really the leader of the snake cultists. He has captured Nimrod and Mr. Rakshasas, and now the twins and Dybbuk also. He wants to inject himself with their blood in order to turn himself into a djinn. Alas, it goes awry.**

Guru: *tells a story about how he's really the doctor who fanboyed over Nimrod in the prologue, thus coincidentally laying his dirty fingers into Dybbuk's daddy issues, turns into a faux-djinn, then combusts*

Twins: Ew.

Dybbuk: LOL!

Nimrod: *wakes up* What's going on?! Did you kids save my life again? Gee, it's almost like I can do nothing by myself!

Mr. Rakshasas: *wakes up too* I can add nothing to that, save for the fact that I'm awfully old.

Nimrod: *gives him the cobra amulet*

Mr. Rakshasas: Hmm...nope. Still old. Thank you anyway.

Groanin: *waves his two arms in the air like he just don't care* *I told you he has those now, did I?*

**They all get outside and Nimrod has a heart-to-heart with Dybbuk about daddy issues. Which went just about like this:  
**

Dybbuk: My mom is to blame for everything! I mean, she _slept_ with _Iblis_!

Nimrod: Relax! Who hasn't?

Dybbuk: what

Nimrod: *whispers* I'm saying that your father is a slut. *wink wink*

Dybbuk: Mmmkay thanks. That didn't help at all. In fact I'm mentally scarred now.

Kindly Mr. Rakshasas: *still sees the good in everyone* I can't wait to see the face of that guy who broke into our room and stole the bottle with the djinn tigers. Being eaten by tigers is a totally legit punishment for breaking and entering. Mwahahaha! I'm a good djinn.

Me: Seriously? Seriously?!

**Meanwhile at Iblis's. [I know I give way too much attention to the, like, two times in the book where Iblis turns up, but hey...he fulfills wishes here! You can't ignore that!]**

Iblis: Well, well, look who's here. Oleaginus the human parasite. Oh, and the spectacled gremlin from beyond the fourth wall who writes down everything I do.

Me: *wearing a black-and-red cloak and a t-shirt that says "Mance Rayder for the Iron Throne"* Beyond the Wall rules! *turns to Iblis* Also, honey, you didn't leave that bed for three weeks. I think you might be depressed.

Iblis: *snaps* I'm not depressed! Now leave, I want to sleep for three more weeks. With occasional interruptions for ice cream and crying.

Oleaginus: I have this bottle where it says "twins" on. I'm p sure that that's the droids we're looking for.

Me: *screaming* No nope nnnnooooo! Those are NOT the droids you're looking for!

Nobody: *listens*

Iblis: Right! I'll take your word for it, incompetent servant!

Oleaginus: So...um...what about...my reward now?

Iblis: Whuh? Oh. Yeah sure. What was it you wanted again? Was it a blowjob? Please tell me it wasn't a blowjob.

Oleaginus: Actually it was...three...wishes?

Iblis: Ah yes, that thing. Alright, so, wish away.

Oleaginus: I wish I had, like, a shitload of money.

Iblis: And how much exactly is _a shitload_?

Oleaginus: Like five billion dollars.

Iblis: Sure thing. *gets him five billion dollars, only not really*

Oleaginus: Aaaand I wish I was more attractive.

Iblis: Dude, you have a shitload of money now. Women will flock to you. Just don't expect me to give you dressing advice.

Oleaginus: *looks at Iblis in his three weeks old pjs* I don't expect that, sir.

Iblis: And your last wish! And fucking hurry. (Don't say sexual favors, don't say sexual favors. Or freedom. Or sexual favors.)

Oleaginus: I wish I was an awesome pianist!

Iblis: Oookay, nice wish! Here's a piano, play anything. I will now open this bottle. Yes, that is a wise thing to do. *opens the bottle*

Tigers: *maul him*

Iblis' ghosty form: Ohshitohshitohshitohshit *floats away*

11-yo-me: I almost lost my favorite character! Muh fuggin fuuuuuu!

18-yo-me: *sigh* Yeah...Iblis lives through another book...sssooo relieved...

**Meanwhile Nimrod plus twins have returned to New York to find that Layla has gone away to rock the hood in Babylon and their father is now an old man. Well, at least he can't promote negative gender roles that way. Anyway, Nimrod tells the twins a story about Faustina and how Iblis is Dybbuk's father.**

11-yo-me: What? WHAAAAT?! Ooooh my glob, that explains so much!

18-yo-me: Gee, thanks Iblis.

Iblis: *running away from tigers in the background while Oleaginus plays the Idiot March on the piano* Sooorryyyy...

Nimrod: *puzzled look at the happenings beyond the fourth wall* Umm...anyway. Your mother is gone, your father is an old man, your friend Dybbuk is Born Evil, there is no way right now that you can change anything (except there might be maybe, but I'm not telling you that because I'm a bag of dicks) but on the bright side...you're all grown up now! Yaaaay. *party popper*

Twins: Um.

Nimrod: *pats their heads*

Twins: Uncle, you're making us uncomfortable. Again.

Nimrod: Oh do I? I guess I do. I'm sorry. I make people uncomfortable. That's who I am. And that's why people always leave me. My mother, who is now dead, left me. In a few books, I will tell you about my wife, who left me. And now my sister left me. And my evil boyfriend slept with Jenny Sachertorte and conceived a child that is the definition of annoying. That's just my awkward, clumsy, _ugly_ self making people uncomfortable! I AM SO ALONE *stomps off crying*

Twins: Um.

The end.

 


	29. Two Sides to a Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh God…I did the unspeakable…I wrote a Philippa/Dybbuk thing…well, at least partially a Philippa/Dybbuk thing. This takes place within the Dybbuk-meets-the-Teers-AU. It is, of course, essentially Nimrod and Iblis pining after each other. Or: How Philippa happened upon the secret of Nimlis.  
> The phrase "Butter my butt and call me a biscuit" really exists. It is pretty old British slang, so I figured Iblis could use it, him being pretty old and British. Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I love this language to pieces.

It was some time after Dybbuk had turned to evil that Uncle Nimrod gave Philippa a piece of advice. "Listen, Phil" he had said. "In the light of what happened to Dybbuk, and your…close friendship to him, I feel that it's necessary to tell you this: Don't dedicate your further life to heroically crusading out there in order to try and bring him back home. If you do that…you will be faced with nothing but disappointment. Sometimes, the people we like, or even love, just change for the worse, and there's not much we can do about that. Sometimes we just have to let people go."

Of course Philippa had been upset. "You mean I should _forget_ Buck, just like that?!" She had almost felt insulted.

"Of course not" Uncle Nimrod had answered. "Nobody could ask that of you. Just…try to not dedicate your life to bringing back what's gone. Try to look forward to the future instead. Don't crusade. Or else you will end up like me."

"Like…you?"

"Like me" Nimrod had said with an uncharacteristic bitterness. "Alone, with nothing to your name but a failed marriage and a life of fight that amounted to nothing. Your only companion being a perennially grumpy butler and possibly twenty cats."

"So…who did you crusade after?"

"That's a long story" Nimrod had said. "And it was a long time ago. He was…"

" _He?"_

"Yes, _he_. Is that a problem to you?" Nimrod had drawn up his chin.

"No…" Philippa had smiled mischievously. "Actually, John and I, we…wondered."

"Well, here's an end to your wonderings. He – I won't name names – and I were…friends. It was really very long ago. I don't think I ever told him of my feelings, but I'm pretty sure he knew anyway. It was unrequited, I think, but…well. He was…beautiful. Normally, you wouldn't use that word for men, but in his case, it just fit. His eyes were…and his hair…and the color of his skin…the way he moved…the way he smiled…smirked, rather…even the way he expressed confusion was of utmost beauty. I remember a summer's day on the Thames, a long time ago. The sun shone bright, and it made his eyes look like liquid gold. Of course, he was also intelligent, charming, witty and…mysterious in some aspects. He was everything, Philippa, everything and more. And of course I loved him, and I remember him fondly to this present day. Alas it wasn't meant to be."

"What happened?"

"Well, one day, my friend, just like Dybbuk, made a decision. The decision to kill all goodness that was in him. He, just like Dybbuk, joined the Ifrit tribe. And as far as I know, he never looked back. I tried to make him stay, of course, but in the end there was nothing I could have done. He wouldn't even listen to me. He was always so stubborn…" Nimrod had sighed. "Of course, I didn't want to give up on him. I tried to bring him back. Oh how I tried. I didn't realize that the boy who had once been my friend was basically dead. In his place, there was a man now, a man who did some horrible things…and I couldn't let my friend hurt innocents, no matter how much I still loved him. Over the years, bringing him home turned into simply beating him. Obviously, I wasn't successful either way."

Nimrod had looked his niece in the eyes and said: "I don't want this to happen to you. Of course you must mourn your friend. But you must also know when to move on."

* * *

The story had impressed Philippa, but…still. She wasn't so sure about heeding her uncle's advice. It was…she had to at least talk to Dybbuk for one last time. She was still of the opinion that she could have somehow prevented all of this. She hoped that there was still some good left in Dybbuk, that the boy who had been with her and John in India and had kissed her on the cheek and blushed was still somewhere in there.

So when, some weeks later, a school friend of her announced that she had been given a weekend trip to Las Vegas for her birthday and she was going to invite all her friends along, Philippa seized the opportunity.

So she went to Las Vegas, and as the other girls wanted to hit the town on their first night, Philippa excused herself and faked a headache so that she could stay in her room. Once alone, she dug out the information she had copied from Uncle Nimrod's folders (he had a whole filing cabinet dedicated to Iblis and family), and, using a map, she located a far-off building that seemed to be called the "Secret Teer Mansion".

Fifteen minutes later she stood before it.

_Alright,_ she thought, _that was incredibly easy…now for the not-so-easy part…_

Getting into the house didn't even take that long, as someone had forgotten to lock the back door. _They must feel really safe here_ , Philippa thought. She once again recalled all the information that Uncle Nimrod had had on the house. _Iblis isn't here all that often_ , she had found out. _Apparently his younger sons live here pretty permanently, the older ones, who have started their own families, visiting from time to time. Uncle Nimrod wrote something about Iblis only coming to live with his family when it's safe. When is it safe? And what has to happen to make living at your own home unsafe? The files were a bit confusing here. Anyway, maybe I'm lucky. Maybe Iblis is somewhere else entirely. Maybe I find Dybbuk and get to talk to him and everything turns out fine. I don't even want to think about what happens if I'm not so lucky…_

Unfortunately, Uncle Nimrod's information hadn't exactly included a room plan, so she had to find her way around all by herself. She snuck around a bit. On the ground floor she found a spacious dining room fit for a family of only-god-knows-how-many, some storage closets and a cozy little kitchen. The place looked like…well, like a place inhabited by a lot of boys. There was a remarkable lack of female hand. But nothing hinted at the fact that there were some of the most evil djinn on earth living here.

Philippa was still in the kitchen when suddenly the light went on in the hallway. _Oh bugger all_ , she thought. _So much for being lucky._ There was a slim chance that whoever was coming there was Dybbuk, and that he would spare her. There was, however, a much greater chance for this to be someone who would not take well at all to her being here.

She stood there with nowhere to run or hide as someone – tall, male, half asleep and definitely not Dybbuk – came in and switched the light on. She looked on, transfixed like a deer in the headlights. She had come so far, she had broken into the super-secret Teer mansion, only to be stumbled upon by Iblis…who, as a part of her mind not rigid with fear noted, did not look very threatening in pajama bottoms and a pretty threadbare white print shirt ("Weapon of Mass Seduction"), his hair mussed up by sleep.

As he saw her, the Ifrit paused mid-yawn, took his hand from the light switch and rubbed his eyes, as if she was a mirage that would disappear when he looked properly. Unfortunately Philippa had nowhere to disappear.

"Well, _butter my butt and call me a biscuit"_ he said. "Philippa Gaunt, as I live and breathe. What the heck are you doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night?"

"Uh-um…I…uuh…"

"Truth, please, I'm too tired for lies."

"I…I wanted to see Dybbuk" she admitted timidly, because you couldn't lie to these snake-like eyes.

"Oh God. This is just…Sit." He drew up a kitchen chair for her and she sat down. She watched in awe as he fished a bottle from a shelf and poured himself a drink before sitting opposite her.

"Can I offer you something?" he asked. "We do have non-alcoholics here."

"N-no, thanks" Philippa said, staring.

"Manners, see? I'm working on 'em. What are you _looking_ at?"

"S-sir, it's…it's two a.m." she blurted out.

"So? I'm aware."

Philippa looked pointedly at his drink. Whatever the situation, her mother would go absolutely ballistic if she ever caught her father drinking at that time of night. Iblis caught her look and rolled his eyes in a fashion that reminded her eerily of Dybbuk.

"What? I don't magically stop being an alcoholic at two a.m. Um, don't tell your uncle I just said that. Apropos, does Nimrod know you're here?"

It would have been strategically good to lie now. Philippa noticed that too late and said: "Nobody knows, not even John."

"Oh, for…did Nimrod never tell you to _not_ _do_ things like this?"

"I…I…it was important."

"Important, huh? Pray tell, Philippa Gaunt…what's so important that you have to break into a mansion full of Ifrit in the middle of the night?"

"That's kind of private, sir, excuse me."

"I take it that Dybbuk was your friend…you know, before."

"Yes…"

"Oh dear. And now you decided to crusade heroically after him and set him straight. Is that not so?" It was strange how Iblis sometimes resembled Uncle Nimrod in speech. Well, they had been around each other for a long time, she supposed…

She didn't answer anything. This was all so surreal.

"Come on, Philippa, answer. I won't bite your head off. Nimrod would be livid if I so much as touched his niece…and I don't want that right now."

"Well, Buck…Dybbuk…means a lot to me" Philippa said nervously.

"In a more than friendly way?" Iblis asked in a low, soft voice. The look he gave her was almost fatherly. For a second, Philippa had to imagine Iblis sitting at this very table with his kids, helping them with their maths homework or whatever. She had no idea what he wanted to hear from her, so she opted for "Excuse me?"

"Would you say you loved him? If I may be so forward to ask?"

"I…I think I do" Philippa whispered.

Iblis sighed. "That's just great. Listen, child. I do not tell this to people, normally, but…I think you'd want to hear. There once was a person who loved me, too. One of your lot."

"A _good djinn_?"

"A Marid, yes, and a right good one at that."

"What happened to her?" Philippa asked, already guessing and dreading where this story was going.

Her guess turned out to be wrong.

"Not her. Him."

"A man?"

"Yes. Not very much of a looker, him, but the greatest… _soul_ I have ever seen in anyone. _Ever._ And this one had, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, taken a fancy towards me." Iblis heaved another, deeply heartfelt sigh. "He wanted to do anything for me, that bloody Marid. Wanted to leave everything behind just to stay with me. He wanted to sleep with me and wake up in the morning next to me and always be there for me and eventually marry me in Westminster Abbey in London. And all that other fuzz, you know. I warned him. I screamed at him. I treated him like a dog. I begged him to leave me. All in vain. He stayed. And so I hurt him, declared a personal war on him and hurt him, for years and years and years. The dilemma could only be solved that way. There is nothing more nonsensical in the world than the way your lot keeps sacrificing themselves."

Philippa asked: "Dilemma?"

"His dilemma, not mine. It's quite obvious, if you think of it. I am evil. He was not. It wasn't meant to be. In the eyes of the world, he loved an evil mass-murderer. I don't even know what he saw in me. He would have lost everything, had he stayed."

"So you, in a way, did it for him…" Philippa whispered in disbelief.

"Don't tell anyone" Iblis said. "There's my bad reputation on the line. I don't do things for others."

"Who was he?"

"Huh?"

"Who was he? The Marid who loved you?"

"His name is of no importance. He probably wouldn't want me to tell you. Anyway. The morale of this story is…you're a smart girl. Maybe you'll be smarter than your…predecessor and back off. Dybbuk has obviously chosen. Holding on to him will cause you nothing but pain. There can be no love between the good and the evil." Iblis looked down into his glass and whispered: "No matter how much we may want to."

Philippa hung her head. "You know, it might surprise you, but Uncle Nimrod said a very similar thing to me."

Iblis raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it doesn't. Not one bit." Then he muttered: "Damn hero complex runs in the family, I guess."

"I'm sorry, what runs in my family?"

"Nothing. I suggest you leave now, Philippa."

"What? You're not going to…you know…lock me up and torture me for what I did way back when?"

"Naah. My therapist says to not let my life be poisoned by old hate. And I guess she's right. You just made me recall things that make me feel quite low, you see, and now I have to fight the impulse to take this here bottle of _very_ alcoholic content and drink until I forget my own godforsaken name. So get out of here. Godspeed, Philippa."

Philippa got up. "One last question, please, sir."

"I am no sir" came the tired answer. "Your uncle is. Knighted and all that. But not me. Anyway, ask your question."

"Did you kill him?"

"Whom?"

"The Marid that you told me of."

"Oh. Him. No. That is one of the very few things I absolutely could not do. "

Philippa nodded and made for the door to freedom.

"Tell Nimrod to look out for himself" Iblis said, very quietly, in her back.

As she turned around one last time, the light from the kitchen lamp fell into Iblis's face and, for a moment, made his eyes look golden. She didn't know why she noticed, but she did.

* * *

Precisely one week after that, Philippa decided to confess to her uncle. "Um, Uncle Nimrod? Do you remember the talk we had about Dybbuk?"

"Yes, I remember it very well."

"And, do you also remember how I told you that I'm going to Vegas with my friend Stephanie?"

"Oh yes, you wrote me an E-mail about it."

"Well, I…I went to Vegas. And…um…"

"Did you meet Dybbuk there?"

"No, I didn't see him…I, um, ran into his father, though."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Iblis? No…he just told me to back off. Told me a rather sad story, too. And then he planned to get drunk, I think, so he just let me go."

Uncle Nimrod still looked worried. But what he said next surprised Philippa. "I wish he would stop doing that. I wish he would look out for himself more."

"You know, he said something very similar. Remember how poor Mr. Hussaout once said you two had such a lot in common? I think he was right. Even his story was oddly…similar…to yours…oh my God…oh. My. God…"

Philippa stopped talking as it all fell into place. She remembered how Iblis's light brown eyes had, for a very brief moment, looked _like liquid gold…_

_He was everything, Philippa, everything and more…_

… _the greatest soul I've ever seen in anyone…_

… _I remember him fondly to this present day…_

_Damn hero complex runs in the family…_

"You" she gasped. "You…and him!"

Her uncle looked terribly sad as he said: "Yes, Philippa. Now you know the shameful secret we have both been hiding. And I hope you won't judge me too hardly now that you know." He got up as if to leave. As if he couldn't look her in the face for fear of seeing disapproval, or even disgust there.

_He would have lost everything, had he stayed…_

"I don't judge you, uncle Nimrod" she said and smiled. "Oh, and also…I think that Iblis likes you a lot. He's just afraid."

"Afraid? Iblis? Of what?"

"Of the judgment you two'd be getting…of allowing himself to feel feelings…I don't know. But I think you urgently need to talk."

Uncle Nimrod just stared at her wide-eyed for a minute. Then he slowly nodded. "Maybe…maybe you're right. Maybe we have to."


	30. Scribbles, part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually skipped a chapter here bc it was just the first chapter of Start All Over, which I already posted on here, so. Doesn't really make sense doing it again. Have the final Scribbles, instead.

11-yo-me: So now I bought book four! What a shiny book cover! Let's see what awesome stuff happens in here! Weee!

18-yo-me: FOUR IS DEATH

11-yo-me: What do you mean? Someone dies in this book?

18-yo-me: *sticks fingers in ears and sings "Last to Die" by Bruce Springsteen*

11-yo-me: What? Hey? You're always so weird about these books! They're nice!

18-yo-me: WHOSE BLOOD WILL SPILL, WHOSE HEART WILL BREAK, WE'LL BE THE LAST TO DIIIEEE...FOR OUR MISTAAAAKE...

Narrator: Well, let's start this off with the twins. They were hanging out at home, where their father was still old as balls.

Edward: I'm old.

Nimrod and Groanin: We're here too apparently.

Twins: Our mom isn't here. We're sad.

Jenny Sachertorte: Yeah no, I can't come over to help you out. I have to stay with my brat son so that he doesn't turn evil.

Nimrod: Oh. Yes. I see. Dybbuk not turning evil is kind of important. Let's hope he doesn't do anything…stupid.

Dybbuk: I wanna meet my DAD! :D

Me: What! Whaaaaat! *splutters*

Dybbuk: Yeah well, every kid wants to meet their dad, right? Also, it would probably help Iblis better himself if he had my enjoyable, cheery presence around! Yeah, there's no danger of anything going wrong whatsoever, and I'll clearly not turn to evil!

Hindsight: Aha ha ha haa!

Me: Now listen here, you lil shit. Yeah sure, you wanna meet your dad. Understandable! I want that too! Meet your dad, that is. Not mine. I meet mine every weekend. But we both can NOT. Just NO. Everything will turn out to be a total disaster. Also, the only person who finds your presence enjoyable would probably be a masochist. Because even reading about your stupid ass is borderline torture. DON'T do it, okay! Fucking NIMROD couldn't better Iblis, and Nimrod is fluff and warmth and light! You are just a whiny little bitch all the time.

Dybbuk: *unfortunately can't hear me because he's just a character in a book*

Jenny: *is a total pushover and takes Dybbuk to Vegas*

**In Vegas.**

Iblis: Ooooooh! Shiny! *invades Dybbuk's private space, finds out that he jacks off to pictures of Philippa, leaves again*

Me: Yeah now what the hell was that all about?

**Later, Dybbuk watches a lame magic show.**

Adam Apollonius: Hey, random boy from the audience! You wanna have your own TV SHOW?!

Dybbuk: Awesome! Came here for my evil dad, got a TV show!

Me: Okay, so…now that you're obviously not interested anymore, can I have the awesome family meeting with your dad instead? I'll turn it into _shag_ _meeting_ though…

Ghosty Iblis: Eh, that's kind of difficult right now…you see, I don't really have my genitalia with me…we can still hang out though.

Me: Awesome! Stick it, Dybbuk! *gives Ghosty Iblis my body and we drive away into the Las Vegas sunset in a Bugatti Veyron, leaving Dybbuk behind to eat dirt*

Narrator: No…that doesn't happen.

Me: Fuck the narrative.

**Meanwhile back in New York.**

Nimrod: So, I have this plan to bring your mom back.

Twins: Awesome!

Nimrod: Yeah, we're going to replace her with Faustina. Therefore we must go and talk to Dybbuk. He must help bring her back.

Me: Yeah, that's probably going to go super well…

**They hop on a whirlwind to Las Vegas. Everyone's in Vegas now. Gasp! Nimrod and Iblis are in the same city! I can smell the sex!**

Narrator: It's pretty impossible for the narrative right now that they meet. It would kinda ruin everything.

Me: Foiled again by the fucking narrative…

John: Hey Dybbuk, you have to come with us to find Faustina!

Dybbuk: Nope.

John: What

Dybbuk: I have my own TV show now, so I'm going to be an annoying brat about this. Pretty much as always. So piss off now, k?

John: Boo, you whore. *leaves*

**So they all go without Dybbuk. They make the plan that John and Mr. Rakshasas go into the spirit world to fetch Faustina's spirit, while the rest of the party goes looking for her body.**

John: The spirit world is scary… *has some psych adventures with exorcists and Mohicans and whatever*

Faustina: Hello, people.

John: *falls in love*

Me: Well, how very inconvenient.

Faustina: Whatever. I'll still be the blue djinn. Let's leave.

Djinn warrior #1: *is blocking the exit* *Imperial Theme plays in the background*

Mr. Rakshasas: I think I'll go talk to him.

John: I'm pretty sure that's an awful idea.

Mr. Rakshasas: Eh, whatever. *goes to the thing and dies*

John: FFFUUUUUUUUU-!

**Meanwhile, Philippa Nimrod and Groanin go to Italy to fetch Faustina's body from some catacombs.**

Sam the angel: Yo! *Steve Irwin voice* One of you must wrestle me!

Groanin: Oh for god's sake *wrestles Sam and wins in an amazing display of Groanin badassness*

Nimrod: Alright, so much for that! Next up, we're going to visit a crazy medium and do a séance!

Philippa: It sure never gets boring with you, uncle…

**They do a séance to talk to John and agree to meet up in Venice. Then the plot goes over to Dybbuk. Dybbuk is going to be famous. Apparently that has to entail changing his name to Jonathan Tarot and wearing an Elvis costume. No idea why that is though. These djinn all have no fashion sense. Well, except for Iblis, Iblis is sex.**

Dybbuk: Aw yiss I'm so rad.

Me: *cough* rad-iculous *cough cough*

Adam Apollonius: hello rad, I'm your fa…Adam Apollonius.

Dybbuk: Dude, do you have kids out there?

Adam Apollonius: OH um yeah? Why?

Dybbuk: Because you know what? You're such a… _dad_. You even do dad jokes! Seriously, you act like you're my dad or something.

Adam Apollonius: Do I? Oh shit…I mean…haa…yeah…that's of course just laughable. I'm obviously not your dad, but Adam Apollonius and no one else.

Narrator: By the way, Adam Apollonius is really Iblis.

Iblis: Shush, you! It's a secret!

Me: Wait, so Dybbuk has, in a way, met his daddy after all? And Iblis fusses over him like awwww! So cute! Oh wait I'm supposed to be scared now.

**Meanwhile, John and Faustina have collected Finlay and are now all in one body and on the way to Italy, while Nimrod, Philippa and Groanin check out a library and read about djinn warriors.**

Book: Yeah btw, these djinn warrior dudes are no good news. Really, really no good news. And if they ever, like, come back or whatever, search out the bones of this one guy. That'll totally help then. Book out.

Philippa: That is no good news.

Groanin: That is indeed so.

Nimrod: You're wearing a gay aftershave, Groanin

Groanin: Uh…what?

Nimrod: Your aftershave, Groanin. Das gay.

Groanin: Look who's talking.

**Anyway, they meet up with everyone else and try to reunite Faustina with her body. Alas she gets stuck. So they visit a bee farm to get help from a guy with a bee beard and probably an army of bee assassins.**

Bee Dude: Hello.

Bee Dude's bees: *settle down on Groanin*

Groanin: Holy shit I'm going to die.

Bee Dude: Is he wearing a gay aftershave? Because he smells like a peeeach blossom!

Me: Is all that fuss about the aftershave some sort of in-joke only the author understands? Jeez.

Finlay (or John, whatever): Um yeah, anyway, we need a few bees. And also Nimrod told us we should absolutely purchase your "special" honey. Um, what's so special about it?

Bee Dude: I'll tell you in the car…Eehehe…

Me: Oh God, that was totally an innuendo…I get that just now…the "special" honey enhances- *gets shot* Ouch! What! Who! From whence!?

Author: *hiding behind a peach tree with a sniper rifle* Now, now…not in front of the children.

Me: So why did you even write the effing innuendo in?!

**They go back to Venice with the bees. There they use the bees to revive Faustina. She's so happy that she jumps into the river. To make the happy semi-ending perfect, Faustina's mom shows up.**

Faustina: Mom!

Jenny: Faustina!

**They do the slow-motion-running towards each other on a beach. Except there is no beach.**

Faustina: I was sooo angry at you because of what happened back then with the whole Dybbuk thing! And I was wrong!

Me: Damn right you were wrong, silly-billy! Listen, little girls and boys: victim blaming is still bad! *sigh* Looks like this series is my "problematic fave"…I'll end up writing something like "Children of the Lamp – a feminist analysis"…

Faustina: Anyway, I now have to go to Babylon to be the blue djinn.

John, Finlay and just about everyone else: Aww, sad!

Faustina: Ha, no! Actually, I've found a way to work around the whole hard-hearted thing! I will stay the same, and you can all love me nonetheless!

Everyone: Yaaay!

11-yo-me: That's wonderful!

18-yo-me: The author will have forgotten about that by the next book.

11-yo-me: That's horrible!

18-yo-me: That is nothing. You wanna know something horrible? Well, keep on reading…

**Well, so, Faustina departs to Babylon, and the rest of the party go looking for the bones of Saint Marcus. They get Marco Polo instead, which is also pretty rad.**

**The next chapter has Dybbuk in it, which is** _**not** _ **pretty rad, but it also has Adam Apollonius, who is Iblis, which is supermegaawesomerad. These Dybbuk chapters have me torn, seriously.**

Dybbuk: I'm a lazy piece of ass.

Me: Listen, that whole lazy thing? It's sexy when Iblis does it. Not when you do it. Iblis gives me lady-boners. You give me the wish to drown you in a well.

Iblis: *fanboys in the foreground* I wanna know how you do your tricks, Jonathan! You're awesome, Jonathan!

Dybbuk: *yawns* I know. *does not throw a pizza at his father*

Iblis: Btw, we should totally earn a lot of money somehow. Money is like soooo important to me. I'm a stereotypical mundane, yes yes.

Dybbuk: Eh, whatever.

Iblis: Hey, how about we make your fans buy a thing…like a Magic Dildo with your pic on…or a magic square…

Dybbuk: Eh, whatever.

Iblis: Are…you even listening to me?

Dybbuk: Eh, whatever.

Iblis: I banged your mom.

Dybbuk: Eh, whatever.

Iblis: *very fast* So I was thinking, you could disappear on live TV and then we tell the kids to do this freak dervish dance so that they too disappear, right? And with all of that I'll kick my evil plan into action, mwahaha and all this, right? Also I'm your real dad, and I think you're kind of a brat, but nonetheless I'm so, so sorry for…for not being there and shit, and for using you like I'm currently doing.

Dybbuk: *hasn't listened of course* Cool story.

Iblis: *relieved grin* That's a pretty awesome idea.

Dybbuk: What idea?

Iblis: Well, the one you had with the disappearing on live TV and the freak dervish dance?

Dybbuk: Oh, that idea. Yeah, that's cool. I'm rad.

Iblis: Oh, definitely.

**Back on the good side of the force, Marco Polo tells everyone a story.**

Marco Polo: Alright, so there was this mad emperor in China who built this terracotta army to become immortal or whatever. Well, he died – duh – but the terracotta zombie things are still out there and now it seems like some absolute _scoundrel_ woke them up. The only thing that can save the world is this golden tablet thing that I'm supposed to give you now…

Everyone: Yaaay, there's hope!

Marco Polo: BUT! I lost it.

Everyone: God, this isn't happening…

John: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK

Marco Polo: This priest guy might have found it though.

Everyone: _What priest guy_

Marco Polo: *shrugs* Idk, a priest guy. Looking like a priest kind of…guy.

**Well, they eventually find out about the priest guy. It turns out that, to find the golden tablet of doom, they must decipher yet another secret code in yet another painting.**

Philippa: *has to stay behind to do the deciphering* My god, does it ever _end_?!

**So they split up again. While Philippa stays behind with Marco Polo and, after a lot of shenanigans, finds the golden tablet of doom, Nimrod, Groanin and the rest of them go to China for the hands-on work. They escape a vicious hurricane by singing the British national anthem and eat some dogs, which, seriously, I don't even have to parody anymore. Also along the way, Layla Gaunt aka Mrs. Perf, loses her perf body to an erupting volcano.**

11-yo-me: Um, why "golden tablet of doom"? I thought it was going to save the world?

18-yo-me: Oh, save the world it will. And how it will. …Fucking thing.

**Anyhow. Nimrod and posse happen upon a super-secret tunnel which is opened by saying "open sesame" in Chinese. There also is a glowing red neon sign above the entrance that says "TRAP" and a sticky note on the door that says "Hello Nimrod, please step in here, there's tea and scones inside and also fluffy puppies or whatever it is you like. There's definitely no danger for you here. Come on in!" in a handwriting that, to Nimrod, looks strangely like Iblis'.**

John: A bit suspicious, isn't it?

Nimrod: Well, yes, but the note explicitly states that there's no danger, so I guess looking what's in there can't hurt. *walks into tunnel*

Groanin: Also tea and scones sounds really nice. I'm coming! *walks after Nimrod*

John and Finlay: *facepalm*

Rudyard: *comes along after some time* *on the phone* Hey, dad! Guess what! Nimrod and the other stupid people walked into our trap! Also, I'm going to conveniently blab my mouth about our evil plan right now. I mean, it's not like any Marid could still be nearby. Okay, gonna hang up now, love you daddy, byyyye!

John: O-EM-GEE! That was Rudyard Teer!

Finlay: And he said Nimrod just walked into a trap!

John: What do what do what do?!

Finlay: Okay, woooaaaah. Let's chill. They don't know we're here. We still have an advantage over them. We need to do the most sensible thing.

John: And that is?

Finlay: We need to wait for Philippa and the golden tablet. Then we bring her here.

John: Good.

**Five minutes of waiting later.**

John: You know what would also be a good idea? If I just walked into the tunnel also. *leaves*

Finlay: *who is alone now* *facepalm*

**John floats around in the tunnel and finds Groanin.**

John: Hello Groanin. What happened here?

Groanin: *Groanin flashback*

Nimrod: Soooo, here we are at this weird jade pyramid amidst a sea of quicksilver…

Rudyard: HELLO MORONS!

Nimrod: Rudyard! What the fuck! *tries to FUCKING KILL RUDYARD*

Rudyard: Haha, nope! I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, I am titaaaaniiiuuuum…

Nimrod: What

Rudyard: Listen to my evil plan. So, we stole all this jade from museums to make suits of armor…

Nimrod: I AM SO SICK of artifacts being stolen for the sake of evil!

Me: Heeey, maybe we all misunderstood Iblis! Maybe he's not evil at all, he's just a giant art geek whose aim is to possess a giant art collection! And the jade suits were just his try to rebuild an Iron Man suit, but _djinnproof_!

Iblis: *emerges* Hello, Nimrod. I'm going to kill you!

Millions of little children: *float into the pyramid in a terrible way*

Iblis: Oh yeah, I'm also gonna cause an Enantodromian binding on all existence, btw.

Nimrod: *shakes head* Iblis, you are so out of it.

**End Groanin flashback.**

John: Fuuuuuuuck.

Groanin: Um, do you think he'll really kill Nimrod?

Me: *strong sarcasm* Oh nooooo on the contrary! They're having sex right now!

Iblis: *emerges again*

John: I'm here btw. Hello. Pls don't harm Mr. Groanin or me. Also you're not a piece of broccoli.

Iblis: That is good to hear. Now y'all come with me and watch me destroy the world and then kill you.

John and Groanin: Oh joy! *djinn warriors drag them into the pyramid*

**Inside the pyramid. Everything is set up for doom. Nimrod and everyone else are chained to walls. Rudyard on some evil machine of evil. Iblis blabs mouth about evil plan.**

Iblis: And then, when I've killed ALL THESE CHILDREN, I'm going to erase ALL GOOD LUCK in the UNIVERSE and then I'll kill ALL OF YOU and then, and then I'll probably go home and cry because I'm an utter piece of filth, but that's irrelevant, and I'll have WORLD DOMINATION, MUAHAHA, and…

Nimrod: Yes, but Dybbuk!

Iblis: Whuh?

Nimrod: That's the worst thing you've EVER done!

Iblis: Uh, Marid, I've literally killed thousands of people in the past, and I just told you how I'm going to kill even more people, I have caused catastrophes and will cause a lot more, and you tell me the worst thing I've ever done is making some brat lose his powers? Priorities, Marid, do you have them?!

Nimrod: But! He's your son! That's worst thing! And also! You stole a piece of cake from my fridge once! That was also worst thing!

Iblis: Um…

Philippa: *crashes the party with the golden tablet of doom* What's all this then?!

**There's a bit of scuffle. The good guys win and release the kids, but Iblis gets a hold of the golden tablet.**

Iblis: Okay. I have clearly lost and I am pissed now. I'm going to kill all of you.

Nimrod: *sad sigh* Darling, you're obviously out of it.

Iblis: Now go on, Nimrod. Beg me for your stupid life. Beg me like you really mean it.

Nimrod: Like I mean it…? *hugs Iblis* I love you. Please stop.

Iblis: …um.

Nimrod: You're so utterly beautiful to me. Please don't do this to yourself. Please.

Iblis: … … …um. *coughs* *lowers golden tablet* You know what, _actually_ …

Narrator: *stern voice* No, that doesn't happen.

Me: Fuck.

Narrator: Listen here, fourth wall gremlin. There is no escape. Not for him.

Me: JESUS CHRIST, I'm just trying to save the only well-written villain this franchise has!

Common sense: Actually, he's not even _that_ well-written.

Me: That's not a reason for him to die and be replaced with some watered-down bullshit versions of him, right?!

Narrator: Well, but that's exactly what will happen, and you stupid little Iblis fans can suck it! Just you wait! Boring Mr. Rakshasas will come back in book six and have a huge fuss made about him, but for Iblis, who's probably a character most people like, the way ends here.

Me: *grumbles* the author has no feel for the audience…

Narrator: Who gives a shit?! Enter Kublai Khan!

Khan: What's up!

Iblis and Rudyard: Shit.

Rudyard: *dies to the world*

Iblis: Um, Nimrod? Some help please? Buddy? Pal? Beloved precious cupcake?

Nimrod: *sighs* No…

Me: ASFFGERIDHGZTFDGR WHYYYYYY!

Iblis: *also dies to the world*

Twins, Nimrod and everyone else: *go home as if nothing happened, as if the world didn't just break in two*

11-yo-me: *lies down quietly on fluffy carpet and dies*

18-yo-me: …are you okay, kid?

11-yo-me: What...? NO! No I'm not okay! My favorite fucking character just died! I hate this! I don't want this! I'm never gonna touch these books again! EVER! And I'll never buy part five! I don't care anymore! AAAAGH!

18-yo-me: Hmm…let's see about that…

11-yo-me: W-what do you mean…?

18-yo-me: Well, kiddo, things may look kind of bleak now, but, I assure you, everything will change when, in a few years, you discover a thing called fanfiction…

**Meanwhile on the other side of the fourth wall, Nimrod goes home and mourns…quietly to himself.**

**The** **end**.


	31. More Phonecalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I present to you: The five times Iblis called Nimrod on the phone without it being his birthday.
> 
> Some of this is fluff, some of this is aaaaaangst. Tw: mention of suicide and mildly sexual content. Also, these two dorks have a playlist now on spotify (simply called "Nimlis playlist") if anyone wants to know what songs I associate with them (some are just songs that help me write them I guess??)

"Hey, Marid" the malicious voice whispers into Nimrod's ear.

Nimrod sighs. He doesn't even ask how Iblis got his phone number anymore. "What do you want?"

He waits for the threat. The "I will destroy the city of New York if you don't do this-and-that". The invitation to their little Holmes-and-Moriarty-game.

"Marid, I have edible cookie dough."

_What?!_

"Yes? All cookie batter is edible, isn't it?" he asks.

"No, no, you don't understand. You don't get sick off of this one, no matter how much you eat. I've found the recipe on the internet."

"Really?" Nimrod asks, wondering when the Ifrit will get to the point.

"I'm pretty sure at least. Wanna come over and sample?"

Nimrod sighs again. "Iblis, have you lost your mind?" he asks sternly.

"Not in the least. I just need someone to try this on."

"But why me?"

"Well, my sons don't subject to my cooking experiments anymore, and you're the closest thing I've got to a friend, so. Come on. I'll put on Monty Pythons. It'll be fun. Pretty please?"

He can almost see the pout and sad-puppy-eyes through the phone.

"Alright, give me an address" he says and tells Groanin to fetch his coat.

* * *

"Hey Marid." Nimrod has always rather liked the silky quality that Iblis's voice has to it. He can make it sound so soft and friendly that people immediately, and fatally, trust him. Now, over the phone, it sounds more like modulated yawning, though. Nimrod has spent such a long time studying Iblis's madly swinging moods that he could probably write a book on them and deduces that he's bored.

"Top of the morning to you, old friend" he answers. "What can I do for you today?"

A sigh. "Marid, I'm bored. I'm infinitely bored. Are you as bored as I am?"

_Bingo_ , Nimrod thinks.

Actually yes, Nimrod is bored. It is a rainy afternoon and he and Groanin are sitting in the library in companionable silence. Nimrod is reading the paper, Groanin a volume of poems. It's not unbearably boring, but something sure could happen.

Now something is happening. Iblis calls very rarely, but when he does, something exiting and/or weird is bound to happen.

"Are you with people?" Iblis asks.

"Well, my butler is here. Why? Are you planning on paying me a visit?"

"Logistically not possible" Iblis drawls. "I'm in Vegas."

"Oh."

"Nonetheless, you're going to want to be alone somewhere shortly. I want to play a game."

"What sort of…game?" Nimrod asks, prepared for anything. Or at least he thinks he is.

"What are you wearing?" Iblis asks suddenly.

"Um…my favorite suit? What kind of question is that?"

"Red?"

"Yes?"

Iblis groans. "I can just imagine you with one of your red suits on. In my imagination you look ridiculous."

"Well…thanks" Nimrod says, insulted only slightly.

"Don't you want to ask me what _I'm_ wearing?" Iblis asks and Nimrod can hear the smirk.

"Why should I?" Nimrod replies, seriously puzzled now.

"Because my answer might be… _nothing_. Can you picture that?"

Yes, Nimrod can. Oh God, oh God, yes he can.

"This is making me a bit uncomfortable" he says into the phone. His face has gone hot and as red as his suit. Groanin looks up from his book and gives him a very curious glance.

"That's what I'm aiming at" Iblis answers, and then, in his best breathy come-hither-voice he says: "Are you with me, Marid? A dark hotel room, the only light coming from some candles. A giant bed, black silk sheets…all to myself. The tragedy of my life, Marid. I'm alone with a bottle of Scotch."

"Well, don't drink it" Nimrod says heatedly.

"Maybe I won't, maybe I will. That's pretty much up to you now."

"Me?"

"Mh-hm. Because if you agree to join my little game, I'll put that bottle on the floor right now…" the clink of glass is heard, accompanied by the rustling of silk, "and put my now free hand to my…nether regions. And this is where you come in, Nimrod Plantagenet Godwin. What should I do with my hand right now? I want you to give me instructions, _precise_ instructions."

"Oh God" Nimrod gasps. The redness is creeping down his neck and going deeper. "This is absolutely…just…I can't…"

"Come on, Marid, help me out. I'm bored, I'm horny, we can both have fun here. Are you in or not?"

Nimrod swallows audibly and shoots a desperate glance over at Groanin, suddenly wishing his butler would just go somewhere else.

"Are you…is it…hard?" he asks, struggling to find words that won't rouse Groanin's suspicion.

"Not yet, unfortunately…" Iblis sighs. "But I can be in no time at all."

"Well…fine. I'll help you out. One condition though."

"What is it?"

"Say my name when you come" Nimrod says, making Groanin cast him a positively shocked look, while Iblis chuckles.

"As you wish" he answers.

And Nimrod, heartily forsaking Groanin and common decency, gives him instructions. _Precise_ instructions.

* * *

"Hey Marid…"

"What is it this time?" Nimrod asks. He's feeling a bit irritated right now.

"If I said that you were my part-time conscience, would you agree?"

"What do you mean by that now?"

"Marid, I've done something really stupid."

"If _something really stupid_ involves the Sachertorte family by any chance, then I've heard" Nimrod says sharply.

"Oh…alright, so…I don't actually have to tell you anymore."

"Why did you do that?! The poor woman is heartbroken! Honestly, Iblis, if I ever hated you, it was probably when I heard of… _this_."

"I'm sorry" Iblis says.

"…what?"

"I'm sorry."

"Did you just…did you really just say that?"

"Please tell her to keep the kid far away from me."

" _What_?" Nimrod repeats.

But Iblis has already hung up.

* * *

"Hey Nimrod, Nimrod, man, listen."

"Oh?"

This is different from the snarky "Hey Marid" that Iblis usually opened their conversations with. The words are also so badly slurred that Nimrod has trouble understanding any blasted thing. "Iblis, what is wrong with you?"

"What – nothing. There is nothing – wrong – with me. Except for, aha, everything because I'm a major fuckup and my life sucks. Do you _get_ what I'm _saying_? Nimrod. _Mate_."

"Oh, I see. You're drunk. You're drunk and you decided to call me."

"Nnnnnooo. It's not like that at all. I mean, I mean I'm not drunk, I'm like tipsy and that's fine. I mean I guess I had like one drink. Or maaaaaybe two. Like three tops. Wha's the big deal 'bout it?"

"I assume that that's a rhetorical question. I also assume that you are utterly wasted."

"Naah, I'm jus' a bit buzzed and I also can't see straight. Everythin's blurry. Woo! That's fun. A-ny-way. Nimrod, listen. Nimrod, I fucking adore you."

Nimrod sighs. "Oh, do you now?"

"Yeeees, absolutely. I mean we both know there's some bad stuff goin' on…right? Like with me. Like I'm bad…sort of, as a person. And oh my god I can't even think of aaall the bad things right? Cause that makes me sick to my stomach, really does though."

"I think that might just be the fact that you're pretty drunk."

"Oh no. No nope noooo. Are you im- im-ply- are you sayin' that I can't hold my drink? Because I can. Got years of practice with that."

Nimrod sighs again and thinks about how Iblis is all the stereotypes of drunkness wrapped into one. He's the angry drunk, the sad drunk and the manically cheery drunk at the _same_ _time_. It has to have something to do with the notorious temper he possesses.

"But as I wanted to say – Nimrod, I adore you. You're my boo. Like I know I fucked up like with everything, right? But you ass…ass-sept me as a person. And that's what makes you just so, so, so beautiful, to me."

Nimrod can't help but smile. This doesn't mean anything, it is just meaningless slurred sweet nothings from a person who gets absolutely needy under the influence, but…he still wishes it was real.

"And sometimes, right" Iblis goes on. "Sometimes I legit sit here and think Nimrod, man. Just Nimrod, man. That guy's jus' so friendly, and that make me wanna fuck 'im."

"Excuse me?" Nimrod says.

"Y'heard me, Marid. I wanna fuck you. Oh God yes. I wanna jam my cock up your arse like there's no tomorrow, darling. I wanna f…fell…la…suck you off until you scream. Too bad you aren't here though."

"No, it's better that way. Wouldn't want you to do anything you might regret."

This is received with a tired chuckle. "Nimrod, sometimes you're a card. You really are. I have a fuckin' genocide on my hands and _you_ think a bit of making out with you would be on top'a my regrets list."

"I don't care for that discussion right now. You know what you should do?"

"Repent?"

"No. Go home and sleep it off, you precious walking disaster."

"I… guess I'll do that."

"Sensible. I'll hang up now."

"Okay, love you, bye!" There are some crackling sounds due to bad reception, and then he can hear a quiet sort of singing. _You are my sunshine...my only sunshine...you make me happy when skies are gray...you'll never know dear, how much I love you...please don't take my sunshine away..._ _  
_

Nimrod hangs up the phone. A part of him is annoyed, another part worried, and yet another feels a warm glow in his chest and thinks: _He said he loved me…_

* * *

"Hey, Marid?"

"Yes?"

"I wonder: if I gave you my address right now, would you come over and end my life?"

"Uh…what? Why are you asking that? And anyway, I probably wouldn't."

There is silence at the other end of the line. Then a tormented-sounding voice says: "Could you please?"

Nimrod's hand is shaking. He tightly clenches the phone in it. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I want you to come and end it. Once and for all. I give. You win. You can kill me now."

Nimrod exhales shakily. He has occasionally tried to imagine how things would go if Iblis surrendered. In his imagination, things didn't go like this.

"You very well know that if I ever won, I would not kill you" he says. "Killing people is your thing."

"I know. It is. I know that, dammit." Iblis pauses for a second, probably to collect his temper from wherever it went this time. "What _would_ you do?" he asks eventually.

"If I ever won against you, I would bottle you and take you to justice."

"Like a _good_ djinn" Iblis mocks. As quickly as it came, the mockery is gone again and makes way to what sounds, to Nimrod, like absolute crippling sadness. "What if I wanted to die by your hands, and not by the blue djinn's?"

"Iblis, listen, what's all this about dying?"

"I want you to kill me. Right now. The sooner, the better. Because I'm too weak to do it myself, see. Not that I didn't try…" His voice breaks at the _try_.

"You…tried killing yourself?"

"Oh, one or two times in the course of a long life."

"How many tries exactly?"

"As I said, one or two, maybe more, maybe less, I don't know. As you can very well hear from me still being here and talking to you, life has always been stronger."

" _How many tries_ , Iblis?"

"…four."

"And tonight you want…me to do number five? Why?"

"I just…I don't see an end right now. I don't care, I want out, I want it to stop already…" Another pause that weighs heavy on Nimrod's mind. It's broken by a sound that's either a sigh or a sob. "I just feel so trapped" Iblis concludes unhappily.

"Where are you? I'll be coming there."

"To kill me?" The hopeful undertone hurts in Nimrod's ears.

"I won't let any harm come to you."

"You're a bloody killjoy, Nimrod, as always. Why should I tell you where I am, if you won't do what I'm asking you to?"

This is infuriating. Even in the deepest, darkest part of one of his depressive phases, the bloody Ifrit has apparently enough of his wits together to argue.

"Because I can help you through this."

"Maybe I'm beyond help."

"Iblis, think of your choices."

"Tough that I have none, huh?"

"You always have the choice between life and death. Please. Think of the people you'd abandon. Your sons. The tribe you lead. Me."

"I told you, I don't care anymore!"

"Oh, but that's a bit of a lie, isn't it? You do care. You do! You care so much that it's tearing you apart inside."

There's another pause. Then Iblis gives him an address on the other side of London.

Nimrod is halfway there when his phone rings again. He picks up.

"Yes?"

"Marid." Iblis's voice is barely a whisper. "I've made…mistakes."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm kind of panicking right now. There's so much blood…"

"What did you do?!"

"Please…hurry."


	32. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a kind of continuation of the Nimlisandra AU, but after book 7. So they all live together and somehow nobody is dead or imprisoned in jade armors. It's basically about how Iblis reacts when he finds out about Nimrod losing his powers. Grappling around with his own lot of guilt, he thinks of a pretty unorthodox way to make amends to Nimrod. Given his temperament, this quickly goes down Obsession Lane.
> 
> Remember how in book 4, the twins transferred djinn powers by a kiss…? I was thinking, maybe one could just give someone else a little of their powers, not the whole deal?

Nobody has ever thought to call Iblis an attentive friend (or lover). He is not generally known to care about other people and how they are doing. But some things he notices.

Alexandra's decision for them to live with Nimrod has been, by and large, a good one. They both have their baggage, and the thought of carrying it around alone any longer is…not nice. They all know about Alexandra's "gift" and the way it bothers her, and Iblis, well…has his own lot to carry.

Often has he been overheard saying that Nimrod is his conscience. That doesn't entirely make sense, but one could well say that Nimrod is one of the few persons who have the ability to wake Iblis' conscience from its pretty solid sleep. Something about Nimrod just _gets_ to him.

It's silly to assume that evil people have no conscience, they're just good at beating it down and locking it up in a dark part of their minds, a discipline in which Iblis is absolutely champion, because introspection doesn't pay in that job of his. For years he has feared his internal walls breaking, and now they're about to budge. Sometimes he wakes up in the small hours covered in sweat – the unpleasant clammy kind – with the dying screams of strangers ringing in his ears, and on these occurrences he is ashamed to share a bed with Nimrod and his wife and slinks away into the night, the odd one out, the parasite, the less-than, rotten where they are whole.

Of course Nimrod notices; sooner or later he always does. He treasures his two new housemates, even though they're hard to handle, and tries to help in his own way. Both Iblis and Alexandra are too proud to admit it, but they love the attention – need it anyway. It's so soothing to their irascible flames. They are both extremely unstable at times, and Nimrod is their rock. But even rocks crumble. That is the situation when Iblis notices that Nimrod's djinn powers aren't what they used to be.

* * *

It's late fall in London, almost winter, and the weather is getting ghastly cold. And Iblis perceives with surprise how much this seems to affect Nimrod. He takes to curling up in an armchair by the fireplace with lots of blankets and napping through the afternoon, not to talk of the _obnoxious_ red sweaters he now apparently likes wearing. This puzzles both Alexandra and Iblis, who are used to Nimrod practically brimming with vitality all through the year. Iblis remembers one year of fighting the Marid in the middle of the Russian winter, almost knee-deep in snow. It didn't affect Nimrod then. Iblis is the weather-sensitive one. It's all a tad worrying. So one day, he asks the butler (who, by the way, is just quietly enduring at that point).

Groanin is dusting in the drawing room, with Iblis sprawled on a couch with a book. He just pretends to be reading, though, while he really enjoys the sight of someone else working while he gets to hang around.

"Hey James…or whatever your actual name is…" For some weird reason Iblis keeps forgetting the name of Nimrod's butler, who utters an agitated sigh.

"For the last time, sir, it's Harry Groanin. I say, Harry Groanin."

"Okay, you said that now. Can you tell me what's up with Nimrod lately? He's been acting weird." It's not a very stealthy way of getting information, but eh.

Groanin sighs again. "Well, sir says it's all side effects from his running out of powers. I guess he's over the peak now, like old Rakshasas back in the day. I say…"

Iblis isn't inclined to sit through another of these endless repetitions and interrupts: "Over the peak? Nimrod? Hah. Never!"

But he's already adding up in his head, and doesn't like the conclusion he's coming to. He and Nimrod are of the same age (give or take a year), and that's entirely not old enough to be burning out already. Everything's fine with Iblis's powers. But then again, he has been saving up. He has been careful. And it's an open secret that he started out with way more than Nimrod ever had. This has never been a cause to brag or take Nimrod lightly, though, because Nimrod is better at other things – level-headedness, self-control, strategic thinking in the heat of the moment, kindness, djinnverso, sheer dumb luck, just to name a few. All in all, they have always been equals. There has always been a nice sort of balance. But Nimrod losing his powers throws the balance off, and Iblis doesn't like that.

_Well, he should have seen it coming_ , he thinks, feeling pretty peeved. _The way he was always…running around just throwing his powers out, helping those mundanes, saving the world, fighting…me…_

He suddenly asks himself how much power, how much _life_ he might have cost Nimrod, over the years.

Another thing he is at fault for.

Fuck. Dammit.

* * *

He's in for another sleepless night. He sits up in bed and looks at Nimrod, who is sleeping peacefully besides him. Is his hair looking gray, or is it just the moonlight?

Iblis doesn't want to sleep. He's scared of what the nightmares will show this time. There's a weird, throbbing ache in his chest. Fucking conscience. He also desperately wants a drink, but Nimrod said for him to stop with the drinks. Said if he keeps going on at this rate, he's going to kill himself. Kill himself…hah. Right now it looks like he's going to outlive Nimrod, and _that's_ _not_ _fair_.

_This should be happening to me,_ Iblis thinks. _I deserve this. He doesn't. And it disrupts the balance, and there's nothing I can do about it._

But wait…is there really nothing?

He thinks about all the people he should theoretically be making amends to. Nimrod first of all, and then the whole Sachertorte family, probably his own kids too, hell, his whole tribe for being an inefficient leader as of late, and so many others…the list literally reaches from here to hell.

Perhaps he should be starting with Nimrod.

He has always had too much power for his own good, and Nimrod doesn't have enough, and the balance must be kept. The path is clear.

* * *

Later, Alexandra, who has wandered through the house unable to sleep, sees something odd as she walks into the bedroom. She stops in the door as she hears Iblis' quiet voice: "Nimrod, are you sleeping?"

Nimrod utters nothing save for soft snoring. He's asleep.

"Very well" Iblis whispers, and Alexandra watches as he bows down over Nimrod and kisses him, but it's an odd kiss. He very softly forces his lips apart with two fingers, then presses his mouth upon them and just stays like that for a minute, breathing. Then suddenly he gets off and slumps down by Nimrod's side.

"Okay, that should be enough" he whispers. By the time Alexandra has crossed the room and is standing before the bed, he's already fast asleep. She wants to wake him up and ask what that was all about, but the kind, doting part of her remembers how the poor dear has been struggling with those nightmares lately and deserves a full night's sleep. So she doesn't.

* * *

The next morning, Groanin approaches the bed with tea and the morning paper, as usual. As he nudges his master awake, Nimrod perks up immediately and greets his butler with a wide smile. "Ah, good morning, Groanin. Is this tea I smell? Marvelous!" He gives a tentative poke at the other bedside. "Iblis, wake up, there's tea."

Iblis turns and swats the hand away. "I don't want tea. Can you stop making such an awful racket? What time is it?"

"It is precisely three minutes after seven a.m. sir" Groanin says, glancing at his wristwatch.

"Seven…that's the middle of the fucking night! You people are insane."

"Oh, but it's quite a beautiful morning" Nimrod says pleasantly.

"The sun's not even out. Let me sleep." He disappears somewhere underneath the blanket.

"Groanin, I think I'm going to have breakfast now" Nimrod says. "If he wants to sleep in and miss a beautiful sunrise, well, so be it. I'm getting up. As a matter of fact I feel really refreshed."

He throws Iblis out of the bed by midday. Those Ifrit and their depraved lifestyle…

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Nimrod gets a lot better. He's feeling less cold, less drowsy, less…old. It's almost like his powers are returning to him in their full splendor. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe there's reason for optimism. Maybe it really just needs time, a good rest, a break from saving the world. Meanwhile Alexandra finds that the cold weather does wonders to her fiery temper. The chilly winter air seems to cool her angry flame and make her a lot less aggressive. They take long walks through London together and watch as the city turns all Christmas-like. It's a joy to behold. The only thing that's a bit off-putting is the weird way Iblis acts.

* * *

Nimrod steps up to the bed and takes a deep breath.

"Listen here, Iblis. I know you're awake and I know you can hear me. It's one in the afternoon. I know that winter doesn't sit well with you, but I think this is taking it a little too far. Alexandra and I would be overjoyed to see you up once in a while. So if you'd _please_ …"

All he gets is some muffled expletives from underneath a heap of blankets.

"Yes, right, cuss at me, very mature" Nimrod says, feeling a sinking disappointment. He sternly adds: "I'll say this once, Iblis, _get_ your lazy bum out of bed. You're a hundred years old – please start acting like a grownup for once."

He gives a sharp tug at the blankets, exposing ruffled hair and eyes that blink lethargically into the light. Iblis groans and buries his face in the pillow before Nimrod can take more than a fleeting glance at it. "But I'm tired, Marid" he argues.

"You can't really be. I know for a fact that you haven't been doing anything strenuous for the last few weeks. I'm guessing you're just being stubborn. Seriously, you and your whole tribe are the djinn embodiment of sloth."

Iblis has snatched the blankets back and disappeared under them again. Nimrod hears a muffled "Call me what you will", but nothing more.

* * *

Nimrod is wrong. What Iblis does at night _is_ strenuous, and it literally takes a lot out of him, but of course Nimrod doesn't know, must never know. They are at almost one kiss a night, one _posse commodata_ every night as soon as Nimrod falls asleep. To Iblis, it has almost become an obsession. But he doesn't care. He's making amends, and that's important. It also has the pleasant side effect of making him so exhausted that the nightmares can't come through. The exhaustion and the fact that he's constantly freezing now aren't _that_ problematic. He can sleep those off, no big deal.

Of course he has to be cautious, or Nimrod will notice. He makes an effort to get up at halfway decent times and sit through a few hours with his Marid housemates. That is easier now – well, if one ignores the leaden tiredness in his limbs, the faint nausea and the fact that his surroundings seem to spin slowly after standing up. And, of course, the secret that he mustn't slip up. But _having_ _a_ _conversation_ with the Marid is easier now. He feels better around them now, able to shake that _less_ - _than_ feeling. Because he's doing the right thing now…isn't he?

Sometimes he does worry that one morning (midday? Afternoon?) he'll wake up and just not make it out of bed. Or, rather more likely, that one day he'll not wake up at all. But then again, if one of them deserves to live on and not die of exhaustion, it's definitely Nimrod.

* * *

In the weeks to come, Nimrod will beat himself up over it, but it's not him but Alexandra who notices.

She's just coming out of the bedroom when they randomly meet, and she addresses him with: "Nimrod, I think we need to talk about our number three. I'm kind of worried."

"Our…number three?"

"Iblis. Don't you think there's something…wrong with him?"

"He's spending even more time slacking off than usual, if you mean that." Nimrod sniffs disapprovingly.

Alexandra chews on her lower lip in thought. "No, I thought…come on have a look at him."

She takes his hand and leads him back to the bed. Iblis is in there – big surprise.

"Just look at him" Alexandra urges, whispering. "He looks bloody exhausted. It should be pretty much impossible for anyone to sleep like that after weeks of doing literally nothing."

Nimrod brushes some blankets aside to get a proper look at his former arch-enemy's face. And he has to admit that Alexandra is right…how come he never noticed the dark bruise circles under the Ifrit's eyes, or the pallor of his face that makes it look almost gray? Iblis looks tired to _death_ , and Nimrod has a sudden urge to touch him, to check for body warmth, for the reassuring thumping of a pulse. He does, and startles at the convulsive shivers he is met with.

"He's cold…looks like the djinnfluenza to me. Gosh darn, Alexandra, how long has this been going on? How come we never noticed this? And why on earth was he hiding it from us?"

Alexandra casts him a peculiar look. "Well, contrary to you, I noticed _something_ " she says and tells him of the weird occurrence she witnessed the other night.

"You saw him _kissing_ me while I slept? Um, excuse me, but…so what?"

"I thought back then what a weird kiss that was. I thought there was just something about that, but then I forgot it. And after that night, he started getting weaker, remember?"

"No, I don't…not really" Nimrod admits.

"Well, this might jog your memory: from that day on, _you_ started getting _better_. Every day it felt like you gained a bit more strength back, right? And _coincidentally_ at the same rate as he began to fade."

"Alexandra…" Nimrod says slowly. "You know I'd never hurt him, right? So what are you talking about?"

Alexandra utters an indignant sigh. "Don't you _understand_ , you colossal _idiot_? Those kisses. Does the term _posse commodata_ ring a bell?"

"The transmitting of djinn powers via kisses…"

"Yes! Get it now? Every night as soon as you were sleeping, he would give a little of his power to you!"

Nimrod stares at her in awe. It strikes him as hard to believe that Iblis would do something so…altruistic. But the explanation Alexandra gives makes way too much sense. He feels dread settling in his stomach. "And to think I didn't notice…I mean, he made himself ill for weeks…I should have noticed, Alexandra! And I r-ridiculed him for it and called him names and…I should have taken better care, I _failed_ -"

"'S not your fault, Nimrod" a hoarse, whispered voice interrupts. It's coming from somewhere within all these blankets. "It's my…decision." Speaking seems to take a lot out of Iblis. His voice is so very faint.

Nimrod grabs his hand and holds it tight. "But _why_?"

"The balance…I had to…"

Nimrod knows about the balance. It's one of these things they've always known, but never talked about. "But the balance is off" he protests. "This can't go on. I mean, I appreciate the effort, but you've overdone it. Can't you see you're slowly killing yourself?"

There is a long pause. Then Iblis whispers: "I don't…deserve…to live…"

Nimrod looks at Alexandra. Both their looks say _oh no…this is bad._

They're not sure how to handle this, and there's a long way yet to go and they're alone.

But they will fix this. Or die trying.


	33. Lost in Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set pre-canon, I guess? It was a weird idea that popped up in my head after reading too much Texts from Last Night. Everyone's doing txt-format fics these days and I guess I wanted in on it

Nimrod knew fairly well of the dangers that Las Vegas held for a good djinn. Usually he avoided the city at all costs. True, he had made it his life mission to bring down the Ifrit casino empire, but he usually limited his activities to places like Monte Carlo, Macao, Atlantic City or any of the non-American Ifrit playgrounds. He stayed away from Vegas. Vegas was the place Iblis had poured most of his power and influence in, and Nimrod knew that his nemesis loved the city like it was a sentient being. And anyway, you couldn't find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy anywhere. For the city of Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, all hope was lost.

But when Frank Vodyannoy called him up one day because he needed to conduct some research in the city and asked Nimrod for backup, he couldn't well refuse. It was an unwritten rule that only the most powerful good djinn could dare to venture into Vegas on their own. If you needed to go there and weren't too sure of yourself, you called a preferably more powerful friend. So they went together, hoping to not rouse suspicion from any of the Ifrit. But Nimrod was optimistic. It was a large city and the Ifrit couldn't be everywhere. Also they were just going to really quietly do their work. What bad could possibly happen?

* * *

The next morning. Nimrod woke up amidst a mess of blankets on the floor of a spacious hotel room that was definitely not his, and he hadn't the faintest idea who this room belonged to or how he had ended up here. Large chunks of his memory appeared to be…missing. The rest was a hazy blur of way too colorful lights and people. He would have panicked about this, but his head ached way too much for that. Strangely, his…um…hindquarters seemed to hurt just as much. How on earth had that come to be?

"Oh boy, you're awake, aren't you? Want me to make some tea?" an elderly voice asked.

Nimrod looked up. He saw none other than Edwiges the wander djinn sitting on a couch with knitting needles in her hands. She appeared to be knitting a scarf.

"Aunty…Edwiges?" Nimrod asked, not quite believing his eyes. "How did you…get here?"

"You silly boy, Nimrod, don't you remember? We met in that one place, oh, what's its name…? The casino. I was testing my new roulette system when you came in with that Rusky and your new boyfriend and said you wanted to party. I didn't want to, but I got dragged along. It actually got pretty fun once you found that swimming pool…"

"Aunty, please don't call Frank a Rusky, he's a good friend. Also…what boyfriend and what swimming pool?"

"Oh, that…whatshisface, the handsome one. You couldn't have possibly forgotten him, after all you two _did_! Look at yourself, dear, you're covered in hickeys! And are those _bite marks_ on your shoulder? He's a biter, huh?" Edwiges chuckled. Nimrod suddenly wished he had a mirror to access damage. Were there really bite marks on him? What on earth had happened last night? And where on earth was Frank? And was there someone next to him?

He dug around in the – literally dozens – of blankets until he found the other person. They slept with their back to him, so their identity remained concealed, but they were definitely not Frank Vodyannoy. They were obviously male, obviously naked, obviously tanned and blond…was there some sort of connection he should make right now…?

"Hey" he said and nudged them. "Wake up, mysterious stranger…"

When the mysterious stranger didn't budge, Nimrod bowed over them to get a look at their face. He shoved some hair out of the way and…

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"MARID COULD YOU NOT SCREAM!"

"He's right, you know, Nimrod" Edwiges threw in.

"Aunty, this is…Iblis" Nimrod argued weakly.

"That didn't seem to disturb you yesterday" Edwiges said, absolutely unmoved. She nodded at Iblis. "I guess we haven't been introduced, my lad. I've heard a lot of you. Hate what you did with the casinos."

Iblis sat up and groaned. "Oh…god…hangover supreme…did I sleep with somebody?"

Nimrod sighed. "It seems you slept with me."

"What? No…drunk me has a weird taste in lovers…Marid, what are you even _doing_ here?"

"Well, Frank – that's Frank Vodyannoy from the Jann – Frank wanted to find out who killed his second cousin Andreji, and I came with him because…well, because Vegas, right? And somehow everything went…horribly wrong."

"Ain't that just the way" Iblis muttered. "I remember Frank Something. From last night. Russian guy. Did like a million vodka shots. Made a pension bet that I couldn't grow a beard. Well, it appears I grew a stubble, so where's my wishes at? Also I have a spot on my back that hurts, could you look there for me?"

"Oh, sure." Nimrod looked and, despite the situation, couldn't suppress a chuckle. "It appears you got a tattoo, old friend."

"What…nooooo" Iblis groaned. "How bad is it? Tell me, Marid. Don't spare me."

"It's not exactly _bad_. It's small. On the left shoulder blade. It's a cobra wrapped around the number thirteen. Looks very Art Noveau."

"Hm, fine. Looks like drunk me has a decent taste at least in tattoos. What else…? Oh, I'm also wearing that weird ring."

"That's mine! It's a family heirloom. Look, it even has the Marid symbol on – golden camel on red ground. Why do you have this?"

"Don't know. You can have it back if you'd like."

"Oh by the way, I'm also wearing a ring" Nimrod said.

"That's…my seal ring. With the old family crest. I seal my letters with it. Thank you very much."

As they handed each other's possessions back, Nimrod mused: "Now whatever possessed us to swap rings?"

"Swap…rings? Oh no…Marid, I have a horrible suspicion…"

Just then, Nimrod's phone rang.

He searched the whole room for it until he found it behind a sofa cushion. It was miraculously still ringing.

"Oh" he said. "It's Groanin."

"Who?"

"My butler. He stayed back in London."

"We don't have time for your bloody butler, Nimrod" Iblis complained.

"Yes, we have. Now go and, I don't know, put some clothes on or something" Nimrod replied and answered the phone. "Hello, Groanin."

"Sir! Are you alright?" Groanin sounded unusually upset.

"Save for a mysterious headache and some memory loss, yes. What's the matter? You sound worried."

"Worried?! Why don't you check your outbox, sir, and read the messages you sent me. I have every right to be worried, I say every right." With that statement, Groanin abruptly hung up.

"He just hung up" Nimrod said.

"Well, what did he want?"

"Told me to check my messages" Nimrod muttered. "Strange. I don't usually text." He went into his outbox and saw that there were indeed several messages there, messages he apparently had sent. But that was impossible…

"Most of this just looks like random gibberish" he said.

"Oooh, read them out" Iblis said with gleeful malice. "I can help you interpret. I speak fluent Drunk."

"Alright, let's see. The first message is from around nine p.m."

"Had an early start, did you?"

"Shhh, you." Nimrod once again looked at the messages.

**9.05: Hello Groanin. Just to put your mind at rest, we arrived safely, the thing is going well and we are happy. Frank wants to go**

"The text just stops here."

"Is that all?" Iblis asked. "That's not very helpful."

"Oh no this isn't all." Nimrod sighed. "Not by a long slate…"

He continued reading.

**9.44: I don't really know where Frank has dragged me… there are strobe lights and people are shouting SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS all the time… I wish I weren't here.**

**9.57: changed my mind its fun here**

**10.12: someone just ? wats the name for the chewy almond cream**

"What does that even mean?" Nimrod asked. "Did I really write this nonsense?"

Edwiges and Iblis both shrugged. "Neither of us has turned up yet, so I really can't tell."

"Keep on reading!" Edwiges suggested.

**10.29: Alright guesss what it looks like we jst somehow walked into some kind of IFRIT PARTY ? Why wjy are we here this s weird Iblis is on a table and Palis the footlicker is pouring vodka on him what on earth do thede eople do in their free time**

"Ah! There's me, for starters" Iblis grinned.

"Do you guys really pour spirits on each other in your spare time?" Nimrod asked.

"When the mood strikes. No seriously, those Ifrit parties are…entirely something else. The first two hours we just sit around, play poker, drink and insult each other. After that stage, _anything_ can happen."

**11.33: THEY found us they I think were going to die aaaha I bequeerth bequeate all my stuff goes to my family**

**11.40: abort abort they're friendly the y have CHAMPAGNE SHOWERS can you believe that groanin shAMPAGNE SHO**

**11.41: h my god you won't believ this frank just ran in and screamed "DON'T WASTE THE VODKA I think rank is wasted**

**00.00: BOOM Midnight a new day daswes dewsn dawns and frank is doing vodka shots with IBLIS**

**00.22: We're going to out in the city to SLAY at least theats what the Ifrit call it lets DO THIS**

**01.03: frank maed a peSnion bet w iblis he say that iblis cant grow a beard they're chasing each other around the roulette wheel now Frank is screming in Russian sounds FIERCE also aunty edwiges is here? Why**

**01.50: Iblis is breaking my HEART no seriously he wants to marry a vodka bottle! That's just mean you can't evne do that screw u iblIS**

"You wanted to marry a vodka bottle? Why?"

"Just…keep reading, okay? I sense something wicked coming up."

**02.13: VICTORY! Iblis has relented. we're gettign married now**

"The next message is just a lot of pictures from the...wedding. I must say, you do look dashing in a tux."

Iblis buried his head in his hands. "I knew it!" he groaned. "Bloody hell, Vegas, why do you betray me so? I've given you my all and that's how you backstab me! I married a Marid! My family is going to lynch me!"

"As will mine" Nimrod said weakly. That explained the rings, of course. He had Vegas-married his greatest enemy.

**03.02: Iblis can DA N cE on a POL E**

"Tell no one" Iblis said with a stony expression. Nimrod nodded his agreement.

**03.36: we found a swimming pool and Iblis is playing poker against Edwgies looks like hes LOSING hah! I'm so happy. All is right with the wordl**

Nimrod envied his past self his happiness. He really did.

**03.37: but we lost frank smh I think he went off with those Siberian hockey players**

"Oh, so that's where we lost Frank."

"Who cares? Just call him later."

**03.38: eh whatever Frkna is alright probly VIVAAA LAS VEGAS actuly I haet this song but iblis is singing it right now a I love that batstars bastard hes my husband now an I love him**

**03.50: convinced him to get a tattoo ha ha aunty sgugested a VERY NAUHGTY THING but he wants snakes**

**04.30: Goodnight! Iblis wants to show me what a fellatio is now hope it'll be fun**

"That's it. That's all the texts."

"But did I show you what fellatio is?"

"I can't remember."

"Do you remember what fellatio is?"

"No."

"Oh dear! Looks like my work was all for naught!" Iblis said theatrically. "The leftover alcohol in my system says we must therefore do it again…"

"Well, don't listen. I'm covered in your bite marks and my backside hurts enough as is. I think we must put some things right, Mrs. Godwin."

"Mrs. G…oh my god! Are you seriously implying that _you're_ the man in this relationship?! It's Mrs. Teer, or I'm getting a divorce."

"Whatever you say. I must go find Frank. But breakfast first."

Nimrod's phone rang again.

"It's my sister!"

He answered the call. Layla screeched into the phone like a harpy. It was grating to Nimrod's aching head.

"Nimrod I am SO worried, I received an absolutely _frantic_ call from your butler just now. Did you really go to _Vegas_ and marry an _Ifrit_?!"

"Well…I…" Nimrod stammered.

Iblis smirked and took the phone from him. "Not just any Ifrit, ma'am" he breathed into the receiver. "But the _sexiest of them all._ "

"What?! Who is this?!" Layla screeched.

Nimrod groaned and buried his head into the blanket. "We are _so_ getting divorced."

* * *

But if they ever got that divorce, or just remained in a secret open marriage for ever after, that, dear reader, I will not reveal.


	34. Happy X-Mas (War Is Over)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a Christmas special. So yeah. Christmas

As far as John and Philippa were concerned, visiting uncle Nimrod for Christmas had been a great idea. Now that he and their mother got along again, it didn't do at all for him and Groanin to spend Christmas all alone. The last few days had been jam-packed with cheer as the twins had helped their uncle deck the halls with a veritable tornado of holly, not to speak of the giant Christmas tree they had decorated together. On Christmas Eve, things looked perfect. It had even snowed a little. It seemed like the whole city of London wanted to look extra festive tonight.

After the lavish Christmas dinner the family sat together by the fireplace and talked. It was pleasant. But then, at just about eight p.m. Nimrod took a glance at his watch and stood up. "You know, I think I'm going outside for a little walk" he said. "Edward, we can continue our _thrilling_ conversation about the stock market later." He went to the door without asking anyone if they wanted to come along.

John and Philippa looked at each other, both opened their mouths at the same time, but then they saw Groanin silently shaking his head and their mother putting a finger on her lips. "Put a warm coat on" Layla called after her little brother, the protective older sister showing.

"I will, Layla" Nimrod promised and left.

"What was that just about?" Philippa wondered. "Mom? Groanin? Where did uncle Nimrod go?"

"He does this every year" Groanin explained. "I say, every year on Christmas Eve. He'll just go for a walk by himself, and no one must come with, not even me. Sometimes he comes right back after ten minutes, sometimes he stays away for hours."

"He's always done that" Layla went on. "Ever since our teenage years. The years he comes right back seem to be bad years, as he always looks a bit disappointed. The longer he stays away, the happier he is when he comes back. When we were younger, he often stayed out all night. I never asked."

John and Philippa looked at each other.

Some sort of silent conversation happened between them.

"I have to go to the bathroom" Philippa said, standing up.

"I'll make sure Phil doesn't fall in" John said and followed her.

* * *

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Philippa asked a minute later, rubbing her cold hands.

"You want to know where he goes too, right?" John said. "Now hurry, we can just catch up. According to the tracks in the snow, uncle Nimrod went this way…"

"Wait up. My hands are getting cold."

"I brought your mittens."

"You're such a considerate brother" Philippa said and _meant_ it as she put on the warm gloves and followed John.

* * *

They caught up with their uncle fairly quickly. He was walking down the street in a leisurely pace. As he approached a small square, he stopped and looked around. There wasn't much to see, though. In the middle of the square stood a pretty ugly fountain, which now of course didn't run, and snow covered everything. A few stray snowflakes blew into the faces of the twins, who were watching their uncle from around a corner.

Nimrod smiled, satisfied, as he apparently seemed to have found what he'd been looking for. He announced in a clear voice: "I, Nimrod Godwin, leader of the Marid tribe, pronounce a temporal ceasefire between our opposing sides for the remainder of the Christmas holiday."

There was a sudden little light as someone on the opposite side of the square lit a cigarette. A voice from out of a shadow answered: "And I, Iblis Teer, leader of the Ifrit tribe, hear you and accept."

The twins exchanged a startled look as Iblis came forth from behind the fountain and joined uncle Nimrod, who smiled. Iblis looked at Nimrod in his red coat with white fur collar and said: "Marid. You look like a fucking mall Santa."

"It's good to see you too, old snake" Nimrod said with a chuckle. "Merry Christmas." They embraced, very quickly, and parted just as soon.

"I brought something for you." Nimrod opened his jacket and took a brightly wrapped present out.

"You really shouldn't have" Iblis said, looking positively scandalized. "It's bad enough that we're doing this at all. You don't have to bring me presents every year."

"Oh, don't be like that. Take it already. I hope you'll like it."

"Actually…"

Iblis shuffled his feet a bit, seeming very interested in the wet cobblestones that covered the ground. In a swift, secretive movement, like a backalley drug dealer offering his client the illegal substance, he pulled a small wrapped object from his sleeve and dropped it into Nimrod's hands.

"Oooh, for me?!" Nimrod exclaimed, delighted.

"No one must ever know" Iblis ground out. Recovering very quickly, he added: "I would have gotten you a sense of humor, but that was physically impossible."

The twins could see their uncle's radiant smile from two blocks away. "Thank you. How was your Christmas so far?"

Iblis made a dismissive gesture. "Eh. Not much of anything. The usual eight ties."

"Eight…ties?"

"My sons" Iblis explained, "lack imagination in regards to buying presents. I haven't bought a tie for myself in _years_."

"Oh. Well, I'm having the family over. It's nice, not being alone."

"See, that's what I always tell you: family is important. Oh no, and you snuck away from them to be out here with me? Marid, you are incorrigible, get your ass back home!"

"Not yet. This place is a bit dreary, don't you think? Let's go to Harrods."

"Oh yes, and watch mundane consumerism."

"Just come on, Scrooge."

They started walking away together, their voices fading with the distance.

"Don't you think it's horrible how they make the employees work on Christmas?"

"Whatever you say, Marid…"

* * *

Once more, John and Philippa looked at each other.

"Let's follow them!" John said.

"Are you _really sure_ this is a good idea?" Philippa asked.

"Well, I think we- oh! What's that!"

Somewhere on the opposite side of the square, roughly in the direction Iblis had come from, there was some scurrying movement. In the darkness only illuminated by the Christmas lights in the windows of the nearby houses it was hard to see anything, but John, who had the better eyes out of the twins, could make out two boys in dark clothes entering the square, then ducking stealthily behind the fountain.

"Hey! You there!" John called over to them.

"John – shhh – stay here!" Philippa urged, but as her brother ran over to the boys, she sighed and followed him.

When the two little groups clashed at the fountain, she saw that the boys were vaguely familiar. At least they had met before, at the djinnverso tournament in the fall. It was none other than Rudyard Teer, accompanied by a slightly older boy. John recognized him as Jonathan Teer, another son of Iblis.

"Oh my fuck! Marid!" Rudyard hissed.

"What are you doing here, Rudyard Teer?" Philippa asked accusingly.

"The same thing as you, birdbrain. We followed dad. Seriously, and you're supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, at least I didn't get kicked out of the djinnverso tourney in the first round because I couldn't keep my tongue in check!" Philippa backsassed him.

"Well…well, you're stupid!" Rudyard burst out, his face red, and probably not only from the cold.

"Hey, shut your trap, daddy's boy" John intervened. "If you want to fight…"

Jonathan Teer sighed. "All you wet wipes are crazy. We cannot fight."

"Oh and why not?"

The Ifrit shrugged. "You heard your uncle, didn't you? He didn't just announce a ceasefire between him and dad, but between _our opposing sides._ The Christmas Truce tradition is old as balls. As long as the holiday goes, no good djinn can fight an evil one, and vice versa."

"But if we _were_ to fight, we would totally own you!" Rudyard butted it.

"Oh really? Does anyone of you have any powers right now? It's winter."

"Uh…"

"She's right. None of us has powers, and it's really cold, so…" Jonathan, trying to be the voice of reason, was interrupted by a snowball whizzing past him and hitting John in the face.

"Hey!" John yelled. "What the hell did I do?!"

"Well I can't be going around hitting a _girl_ " Rudyard answered.

Philippa bent down and made a snowball herself. "What did you just say?" she asked. She scooped up a handful of snow, stepped up to Rudyard and dumped it straight down his collar. Rudyard yelped.

"That'll show you! Don't you dare belittle me like that again, Teer!"

"Hey, back off my little bro!"

"You back off my sister, you slimy snakes!"

Soon snowballs were flying heavily on both sides. In a matter of minutes everyone was covered in snow, faces glowing and fingers frozen stiff despite their gloves.

"Hey, wait, stop!" Jonathan shouted. "We have to stop! You small fry listen to me!"

"You only say that because we're winning! At the end of the day you Ifrit are all cowards, just like uncle Nimrod said!"

"No, I…did your uncle really say that?"

"Yeah, last year in Egypt. He called all the Ifrit cowards, except for…um, your dad."

"Aww, so he does carry a torch for dad. Hah, Jared owes me twenty bucks now. Anyway, we have to stop. We can't fight, remember? Also we lost our two lovebirds."

"Lovebirds?" John asked.

Rudyard peered up from behind the fountain. "Crap, he's right. They're gone. What now? Do we wait another year?"

"They said they wanted to go to Harrods. That's the mall, right?" Philippa asked.

"I know where that is. Come on."

"Wait, what do you mean _come on_? First you antagonize us, then you throw snow at us, and now you want to ally up?"

"We don't have time for that. Listen, you wanna know what business your uncle has with our dad too, right? Then it looks like we're on the same side tonight, now come on."

"But…what if they see us? We're not exactly on good terms with your dad."

"Christmas Truce, remember? All he can do is glare at you. Now _hurry_."

* * *

Jonathan led the little party to Harrods, where they soon found Nimrod and Iblis again, as Nimrod in his bright red coat was not exactly easy to overlook. The mall sparkled with Christmas lights, mundane couples and families were everywhere. John Lennon's "Happy Xmas" was blasting out of loudspeakers. The scene was so picturesque that Philippa's eyes watered a little. And in the middle of that, two of the most influential djinn. Good and evil, united for a night.

"There they are" Rudyard hissed. The four young djinn were hiding behind a large Christmas tree.

"They're talking…I can't hear anything though."

John tried to look over Rudyard's shoulder without exposing all of them. "Maybe we can get closer. They look…happy, I guess."

"Happy? My dad? Let me see that, Marid."

"Hey, ouch, no shoving!"

The tree rustled suspiciously as each of the four tried for the best vantage point. Eventually Philippa got the upper hand and nudged Rudyard and John aside. She looked out from behind the tree and gasped with incredulity at what she saw.

"Oh my god, are they holding ha-"

"Impossible."

"Let me see, let me _see_!"

"Ah! I said no shoving!"

"Tell us what's happening!"

"Well, they're…standing there. Yeah, and they're smiling at each other. And their hands are touching. Not much else…oh god, oh god, what happens now…!"

"What! Let me see! Oh!" Rudyard somehow appeared next to Philippa, almost shoving her into the tree. What he saw was his father, and the Marid leader, just standing opposite each other with rather silly smiles on their faces, apparently unbothered by the people watching or the snowflakes whirling down around them. And then Nimrod, with utmost care, raised his hand and brushed some snow out of his arch-enemy's hair. But instead of snapping at him – Iblis usually didn't like being touched – he just grinned, rolled his eyes and said something none of the kids could hear.

What Rudyard _could_ hear were the whispered questions from behind him.

"What happens now?"

"Are they _kissing_?"

"No, they're just doing the forehead touch thing. Shoot, dad really _does_ carry a torch for that Marid."

"Now Jared owes me like a million bucks" Jonathan whispered.

"Johnny?"

"What is it, little bro?"

"Shut up."

"What? Why?"

"Look…just look at them."

All the four djuniors leaned in together and watched, relinquishing their cover. It didn't matter. Neither Nimrod nor Iblis cared for them.

"Now…now they're kissing alright" Philippa whispered.

They all stood silently and in awe, four kids with snow in their hair. There were no words but those that John Lennon still sung on the speakers.

_War is over, if you want it, war is over, now…_

"Miss Philippa?" Rudyard asked. Something in his voice had changed.

"Yes?"

"I actually don't think you're stupid. I think you're much smarter than me, which has embarrassed me. I'm sorry."

"It's…alright."

"You kids!"

The twins spun around at the new voice. "Mom! …Oh dammit, we're in trouble."

Behind them stood Layla Gaunt, with Groanin looking over her shoulder.

"What are you all doing out here?" she asked. "John, Phil, why are there two Ifrit with you? And why are you all covered in snow?"

"Mom, we're sorry…" Philippa began.

"We were curious about what uncle Nimrod was doing" John explained bluntly. "And these two, well… they just kind of came up. They had the same plan as ours, only they followed their father…"

"Of course you all were curious" Layla said. "Spying on your uncle is not a very nice thing to do, but…I understand why you did it." She laughed and pointed at the mall. "It is a most astonishing sight, isn't it?" The twins felt that she wasn't talking about the festive environment, but the two djinn still locked in a kiss.

"Wait…mom, you _knew_?"

"Pretty much since the first years." Layla smiled an almost mischievous smile. "I never _asked_ , but that doesn't mean I never _followed_ him."

"You did?"

"As did I" Groanin threw in, looking a bit ashamed.

"But…why did you never say anything?" the twins asked.

The two adults looked at each other and shrugged. "It's entirely their business. People find love in the strangest places."

"Indeed they do" someone said.

Everyone turned around once more to see a young man leaning against the tree. He looked the spitting image of Iblis, save for his hair that was a little darker.

"Another Iblisson?" Layla asked. "My, how many of you are there?"

"I don't think even dad knows exactly" the newcomer said and bowed. "I'm Odair Teer, firstborn. And I wanted to see what my two littlest brothers were doing out in the streets at night. You can run into all sorts of danger out here."

Now it was Rudyard and Jonathan who looked timid. "We followed dad…"

"You think we didn't? Every single one of your brothers followed dad some year. We could've just told you, but I guess you have to see it with your own eyes."

"Look, this is just silly" Layla announced to all of them. "We're all out here now and…it's laughable! It really is. Why don't we just, I don't know, drop the scam and celebrate Christmas together? We have the truce already."

"Alright with me, missus" said Odair. "But…who breaks it to Sir Nimrod and my father?"

* * *

And this is the story of how Nimrod's place got invaded with Ifrit for the remainder of Christmas. What sounds like a recipe for mayhem went by relatively cordial, with everyone on their best behavior. Edward Gaunt appeared a little spooked by the sudden presence of so many additional djinn, but he was largely ignored. That is, until he and Iblis got into a discussion about women's rights, and then Nimrod, who had been in the kitchen making tea, came in to the sight of Iblis towering over poor Mr. Gaunt and hissing at him: _"Justice is a social construct that serves the privileged only, and of course a man who'd even think about hitting his children deserves to be turned into a leech and stepped on!"_

He pulled the two of them apart, sat them down in opposite corners of the room and apologized to everyone in general and no one in particular.

He later caught his sister saying to Iblis: "Let's do this again next year."

"If business puts me in London next year, we will" Iblis replied. "Anyway, darling, you're in an abusive relationship _. Step on him_."

And Nimrod could have sworn he saw his sister wink and whisper: "Not until the kids are out of the house."


	35. Headcanons, part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, another headcanons list. I'll be done soon

**1**. Appearance headcanon: Much to Iblis's chagrin, Nimrod is a few inches taller than him. I'm not talking a largely visible difference, just...if Iblis tried to kiss Nimrod, he'd probably have to tiptoe a bit.

**2**. Evil djinn are at their least powerful around Christmas. This headcanon is based on a) the difficulties the twins had in the second book when it was Christmas time and there were just too many wishes and it was cold, and b) something that Layla said, also in book two, regarding evil djinn and Halloween. I always kind of headcanoned (is that even a word?) that evil djinn are more strongly influenced by seasons and the weather than the good ones, so that they're most powerful around All Hallows Eve (because it was originally a holiday dedicated to worshipping them) and, in the fall and winter months afterwards they gradually weaken (even those who live in all-year warm conditions like the Vegas Ifrit) until, at Christmas, they are at their weakest, just for the fact that Christmas is so inherently _good_.

I dunno. It's nice imagining the Teer family all piled on a giant sofa with a load of blankets basically hibernating through most of the holiday. Some years they have a tree and presents, some years they haven't.

Speaking of Christmas presents, Iblis would probably get ties from _all_ his sons.

**3**. Pirates AU where Nimrod is a British Redcoat (fitting, huh?) chasing the Ifrit pirates! It's silly, but it would be fun to write.

**4**. Iblis is aware of the fact that he probably has a libido problem. I mean he has 347578340 sons, please keep it in your pants, Iblis. He just sometimes doesn't have brakes like other people. The only reason why he hasn't gone into therapy yet is because he's a massive idiot.

**5**. I'm toying with the idea that Iblis may have something to do with the death of Alexandra's brother that caused her to go bananas. I don't know for what reason though. Jealousy springs to mind, but I don't think Iblis is that kind of person. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. But it would be a nice little plot twist if any of the three made the connection.

**6.** When Iblis possessed Madame Coeur de Lapin, he spent most of the time groping himself going "Ehehe...boobies".

**7.** How I imagine the classic Highschool AU to go like with Nimlis:

•Nimrod is the bookish nerdy kid who has friends because he's just so very kind with everyone, especially with the misfits

•Iblis is, at first glance, your typical popular bullying jock with his very own clique of admirers

•Iblis would sporadically tease Nimrod, dropping homophobic slurs now and again (even though Nimrod wouldn't be openly gay)

•after gym/football practice/whatever Iblis would always be the last to leave the locker room, refusing to shower or undress in the proximity of the other boys, what with "that fag in the room who's probably out for my ass" and everyone would just think "ugh wtf man"

•until one day Nimrod would accidentally walk in on Iblis changing by himself and see that his body was riddled in bruises in varying states of healing from where his father beat him. It would turn out that Iblis never had anything against gays, he was just making up an excuse so the other boys would not see

•after that they would secretly befriend each other. awww, right?

**8**. You know what would be absolutely hilarious? If, whenever a djinn transforms into an animal, the clothes don't get transformed back, like with werewolves. Then, whenever they would take human form after being an animal, they'd come back naked. Well, I guess if it were that way, John and Philippa would be mentally scarred now.

**9.** Fem!Iblis would basically be Britney Spears. You don't understand? Well, listen to _any_ of her songs... especially "Piece of Me".

**10**. When he's really annoyed or exasperated, Iblis does the eyeroll-and-bassoon-noise thing that everyone and their brother associates with Dybbuk (who has, of course, inherited it like that sometimes happens). During book four, when he was around Dybbuk in the guise of Adam Apollonius, he had to actively refrain from doing it very often in order not to slip up and blow his cover.

**11**. Headcanon that the Ifrit elite consists of total dorks who all have "funny" in-joke embarrassing nicknames for each other, that get a lot less funny when you figure that they all relate to a particularly evil deed the Ifrit in question has done (Palis is "Happy Feet", Jirjis is "Wifebeaters" and so on). Headcanon that, when Nimrod finds out that all notable Ifrit call Iblis "Dandy", he laughs himself silly nonetheless, embarrassing Iblis in front of everyone.

**12**. Another idea that occurred to me: Any flashbacks in fanfics regarding Nimrod or Iblis I've ever seen are like a hundred years ago before or during the World Wars or whatever when they were like really young. But the AUs I want are all like

•Iblis and Nimrod watch the punk movement/ the 90s

•Iblis and Nimrod's stance on women's suffrage

•Iblis and Nimrod IN 1968! I mean, imagine Nimrod getting really into that love-and-peace thing that these mundane young "hippies" are on about, while the Ifrit get none of the love and peace but the neat music and _all the drugs._ Imagine Iblis lighting a joint on a burning waistbin. Imagine Iblis on pot, generally.

**13**. Iblis is absolutely unbeatable at poker, but always loses to Nimrod at djinnverso.

**14**. Things I want to remind people ARE CANON:

-Philippa listens to boy bands.

-Nimrod wrestled a cougar once when he was in school and won a prize for it. I mean, what?!

-Edward Gaunt hides paperclips in the skin of his feet because he's a fan of Houdini. Also Edward Gaunt is horribly sexist. CANON!

-Iblis, in canon, has weird phases when he doesn't leave his bed for weeks and lets his hair grow out and basically, if this were a series written for adults, this would all sound eerily like symptoms of clinical depression.

-Groanin considers himself a ladies' man. He also wears a gay aftershave. He only needs a fedora now to evolve into broni friendzoni.

-Faustina hums like a bee when she's happy.

**15**. Some Ifrit can sprout snake fangs and even unhook their jaws like snakes do. They scare the living daylights out of unassuming people when they do that.

**16**. Sometimes Iblis makes these horrible dad jokes, but then he immediately notices and apologizes. It seems to be a thing that comes with fatherhood.

**17**. There's a djinn binding on the Secret Teer mansion that prevents everyone from using their powers. As soon as you step onto the premises, no djinn powers can be used. There also are no servants, so whatever chores there might be around the house must be done the mundane way by Iblis and his sons. This binding was cast by Iblis as he and his sons kind of silently agreed that this house is their hiding place where they don't _need_ to be djinn, especially not evil ones, a place where they are just…a family like any other one.

**18**. Once, Iblis walked in on his sons all together in the living room, filming themselves while doing all kinds of ridiculous shit. When he asked: "What the hell are you doing?" one of them answered "Vines, dad."

Their vines are pretty good, actually.

**18.5** If Iblis himself would do vines, they'd be like that British guy called Arthur who explains the British through yelling at things. They'd be called "Iblis explains the Ifrit".

"How Ifrit make love. The same as you, you idiot, we grab our loved ones, get the tea bags out of the way…and then we throw them against the fucking wall! Fuck off, Nimrod."

**19**. I was reading the Iblis scene in book 3 again (the one with the tigers, not the other one) and I noted how Iblis said he had "killed planeloads of people" because there was some guy with a guitar on board, and I _think_ the author is making a reference here to "The Day the Music Died". Guys _Iblis_ _killed_ _Buddy Holly_ …

And now I want one of his sons (preferably Rudyard) to be a fan of Buddy Holly's music and find that out and be super upset and, like, post on his facebook: Newsflash, guys, my dad is an actual monster with no music taste!

**20.** Speaking of, djinn kids would probably have two facebook accounts, one for mundane friends and one for djinn friends, so they can post about the magical stuff without causing mass confusion. Or there's a secret djinnternet out there.

**21.** When no amount of money or threats will do the trick, Iblis is not above using sex to get his means. Throughout his career he has spread his legs for several people – male and female – to achieve some deal or other.

**22.** It being established that I headcanon Iblis as more or less secretly an alcoholic, I also imagine him being an obnoxiously clingy drunk.

List of things Iblis will do when drunk:

-dial Nimrod

-sing

-blow shit up

-intervals of random laughing

-tell everyone why his life sucks

-hug random people

-talk exclusively in verse, or Swahili

-recite Shakespeare/Wilde/Poe until everyone runs away

-dance on a pole (a rare occurrence)

-go to bed with random people, resulting sometimes in Dybbuk

**23**. Iblis hates being touched without permission, and he'll likely snap at anyone who does, even his sons. On the contrary, Nimrod loves warm hugs. He is known for giving the best, most soothing hugs on the planet.

Due to their solitary lifestyles both of them, at times, get horribly touch-starved.

**24**. A particular little thing Nimrod loves about Iblis is his hair – its texture and color, the way it feels to run his fingers through it. Sometimes, very rarely, Iblis will allow him to touch it.

**25.** I like to imagine that the grave of emperor Qin, which contains a certain jade suit of armor, became a kind of shrine after some Ifrit found it. Evil djinn would go there and put down wreaths of flowers, or little "offerings" to the spirit of Iblis before going about an exceptionally evil undertaking. It soon became a custom to rub the jade stones for good luck (crotch area for fertility and/or random sons). However, when the Iblissons found out, they brought an end to this little cult by visiting the place with a giant sledgehammer and getting their father and baby brother a decent burial.

**26.** I also like to imagine that Nimrod has got inofficial permission by the Teer family to visit Iblis's grave, and sometimes he really does that. I like to think that after fighting Iblis for so long, he feels a sense of loss after he's gone. I see him sitting down by the grave for a while and just telling his once greatest enemy about how he's been or how his day went or what's worrying him right now. Of course he'd bring flowers every time.

**27.** Dybbuk would probably be the kind of guy who'd tease Philippa for listening to "girl music" and demand she listen to some "real" music. I want Rudyard to be the kind of guy to play rock covers of One Direction on his guitar for her and convince his band to let her sing a few Avril Lavigne songs at their concert.

**28.** In times of peace, Iblis will do all kinds of dad stuff with his kids. You see, I imagine every Iblisson having at least one interesting hobby that defines them, and Iblis giving his support when he can. I mean…

•Iblis teaching his sons how to play Baseball or whatever it is American suburban dads play with their spawn

•Iblis helping his sons with their homework

•Iblis going to concerts, football games or what have you to cheer

•Parent-teacher-conferences at school and all the female teachers want to bang him on the desk

• _Iblis being involved in his sons' lives and interests_

**29.** You know what this planet needs? An AU where the Gaunt/Godwin family runs a nice little diner or restaurant, and the Ifrit run the club across the street that's always blasting this infernally loud music and might or might not be a Mafia-sponsored drug den. And one day Nimrod goes across the street to complain about the noise, all huffy righteousness and "I want to talk to your manager" and then that's Iblis and Nimrod is like "Oh no, he's hot"

**30.** So as I said, Iblis being a supportive father, but! absolutely horrified by the concept of even casually touching his kids. Because back when he was a little (dude had a really bad childhood), his own father used physical contact only to cause humiliation and/or pain, so with his sons, Iblis will be extremely careful not to cross that kind of line. As long as they're babies, yes okay acceptable, but as soon as they grow older than, say, five years old…umm, how about no? So, fatherly hugs/hair ruffles/pats on the back or whatever will happen extremely rarely and some of the Ifritsons will notice and be bothered by that.

**31**. I remember when I first read book one, a thing I found really cool was the deck of cards with all the djinn on that John and Philippa got. In retrospect, I'm p sad that this didn't come up again. My headcanon is that the pictures on these cards are moving like in Harry Potter. All the bad djinn depicted would flip the bird or make scary faces whenever John or Phil tried looking at them.

(I also remember listening to "Loose" by Nelly Furtado constantly while reading the book, and my first juvenile fantasies about Iblis got intertwined with those songs. I had long forgotten that fact, but recently I remembered and listened to the album again and god, most of the songs on there are pretty horrible actually).

**32.** Another book one thing: the German translation was kind of vague about everyone's looks, so for the longest time I had this picture in my head of Iblis as your typical middle-eastern looking dude, dark skin dark hair. When I happened upon (English) fanfic years later and found out what exactly "fair-haired" meant, I felt _betrayed._ But I will not stray from my path. Iblis is now dark-skinned and blond, no take backs. I am dead serious about this. Appearance headcanon: NON-WHITE IBLIS

**33.** I skimmed book 4 to check if this is right…and you never see Iblis referring to Dybbuk by his name. It's always just "the boy" or "he". This has brought me to believe that Iblis physically cannot bring himself to speak Dybbuk's name. Like maybe he regrets. Not just Dybbuk losing his powers, but everything. The whole thing. _Dybbuk as a concept_.

Also, had Iblis lived beyond book four and seen Dybbuk turn to evil, he'd be less than thrilled. I think he'd be like "Woooooah boy stop right there _you_ want into my family? Absolutely noT. What is this you're not _evil_ , go home to your _mom_ , Dybbuk Teer my _ass_ "

I have considered rewriting that one chapter in book five to Iblis's ghost turning up alongside Rakshasas and telling Dybbuk exactly that.

**34.** In any given scenario where they get together, Nimrod will _only_ accept Iblis as a life partner if he makes a formal apology to Jenny Sachertorte beforehand. (Remind me to put that into SAO somewhere because I wanna see that)


	36. Valentines Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what Special this was?

Philippa always looked forward to Valentines Day. Not because she expected loads of cards and gifts from starstruck admirers. But out of the kindness of her heart she loved seeing happy couples, and if one of her friends got attention from a boy she liked, Philippa was genuinely happy for her. Also it was always nice to write "You're my best and cutest friend!" on a gift card and make a girl's day a little happier. She spent her school time exchanging such cards with her friend and pour over with happiness for her friend Isobel who had received a whole bouquet of roses from a boy – and when she came home from school, her mom was waiting for her with an envelope in her hand.

"This just came in the mail for you" Layla Gaunt announced with a perfect smile. "Maybe it's a Valentines-"

"Mom, please" Philippa interrupted, blushing and snatching the envelope. "I don't think anyone has a crush on me."

But when she opened the letter in her room, indeed a card fell out. She opened it. In handwriting unfamiliar to her – and it was quite the chicken scratch – it read:

"Miss Philippa!

If I could write poetry, I'd probably write about you, about your pretty red hair or your eyes maybe. But I can't and it's stupid anyway. So let me just say that I think you're…" there were some words that had been redacted so that Philippa couldn't read them. Finally the author had settled for: "…pretty cool. I mean you're smart and you kick ass and you're really good at djinnverso. I guess this means I "carry a torch for you" as my dad would say. I'm sorry we…" then, crossed out, were the words _are, cannot_ and _can never_ , until the letter continued with: "…can't really meet. So let me just say you're cute, and draw you a heart, that I can manage. From YOUR SECRET ADMIRER (ANONYMOUS)." Indeed Phil's secret admirer had scrawled a small heart underneath his message.

Well, she thought, what to make of that?

The card had obviously come from a djinn kid, and one who knew she was good at playing djinnverso. That was a puzzle, since Phil hadn't met many djinn kids. And played djinnverso against even fewer. She scanned the envelope again and found that the letter had been issued in Las Vegas. She didn't know anyone who lived there. She shook her head. A mystery.

* * *

Meanwhile in London, Groanin presented Nimrod with a handful of cards that had been in the mail. He sat down at his desk with them, opened them all and made time for a few good thoughts about the sender.

"For the best baby brother in the world! Happy V-day from your sister Layla." He could have done without the "baby brother", but oh well. It was nice to be in contact with his sister again, after so many years of not talking.

"Nimrod – thinking of you. Alexandra." Ouch. Leave it to dear Alexandra to be blunt on Valentines Day.

"Dear Nimrod, happy Valentines day and thanks for being a good friend in times of need. All the best, Jenny." Ah yes, Jenny Sachertorte…a very good friend indeed. What a pity that she had fallen on such hardships with her family.

"To Mr. N. Hope you have a great V-day with a message from someone you love! Roses are red and so on. We really need to meet up sometime! Lots of love to you and the family from Perry." Ah, Perry-the-therapist from the Jann tribe. Nice woman, but he suspected her to be involved in some shady business.

There were a few other cards, most of them friendly ones from women, mundane and djinn, he was either friends with or had helped out sometime. Attached to each of them were a smile and a good memory. Nimrod himself didn't really bother with Valentines Day, as most of it was pure mundane commerce really, but it still was a nice surprise that so many people had thought of him.

He opened the last card. Oh – what was that? The message started, really bluntly, "Marid…", and the handwriting was almost definitely male. Male and vaguely familiar. He read on.

"Marid,

I sometimes regret having to hurt you.

You've always been there and stuff, so…

You kinda matter. To me.

That's all, k, bye.

(wow I'm so bad at this)"

Nimrod spent a few minutes staring at the card in disbelief. Then he stood up, went to the next store, bought a card of his own and sat down at his desk again. He took a pencil and wrote:

" _Hello…"_

"No" he muttered and erased it.

" _Dear…"_

"No, no, no." Eraser.

" _To my…"_

"My what…?" Friend? Unlikely. Enemy? Sounds rude. Love?...Let's not go there.

He decided to skip the introduction altogether and wrote: "I'm sorry this card reaches you belatedly. I must admit I didn't even think to send you one, that is until I got yours. I'm not usually in the habit of sending Valentines cards. It is a rather American custom, isn't it? That is, of course, not to depreciate your effort. I was a bit surprised that you thought of me…if I can say that. I found your card very…" He pondered for a minute and put "thoughtful". Now how to go on? He wrote "Are you", erased it, wrote "Why did you", erased that and continued: "It's unexpectedly nice of you to think of me." Then he realized that a) this would sound rude again and b) he was repeating himself. He erased the sentence, scratched his head with the pencil, fell into despair for a few minutes and then ended the message thus: "Will we ever talk about this? Are you alright? Are you lonely?"

At last Nimrod looked down on the few lines he had just painstakingly produced. He read through them. They sounded like rubbish.

He weighed a few options on how to react in his head. Should he react at all? Maybe he wasn't even meant to? He gnawed on his fingernails. Looked down on his card again. It didn't look at all pretty. His handwriting was sloppy and everything was all smeared from the eraser.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, then cleared the card of all writing with a wave and a mutter of his focus word. Now it was as pristine as it had been when he had bought it.

He very carefully dipped his pen into the inkwell and wrote:

_"Iblis-_

_You are the only one."_

He put the card in an envelope and brought it to the post office. He didn't bother with the address; he just wrote "Iblis Teer of the Ifrit, c/o Las Vegas, Nevada, USA". Usually a letter labeled thus incorrectly would get lost in the post, but the Ifrit were…organized. Iblis would get the card. He knew as much.


	37. Run To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY WE'RE DONE HERE  
> And guess what? There's some actual smut in here to top this off :)

It's always Iblis who calls Nimrod, never the other way around. That's the unwritten rule. But one day Nimrod decides he can't read rules that are not written, and goes through some pains to find out the Ifrit's phone number.

His daring surprises Iblis, but he acts like he's not, simply asking Nimrod what he wants.

"I can't do this anymore. My wife is driving me nuts. Somehow this has gone completely wrong."

"Trouble in paradise, Marid?" Iblis mock-drawls.

"This isn't paradise anymore. I just…she wants me to settle down, see. I can barely leave the house without her turning into an absolute controlling harpy. I miss solitude. I miss freedom. I miss actually getting to do something worthwhile. I miss fighting. Heck, I even miss you."

"I could've told you so" Iblis replies. "Married life doesn't suit you at all. You're born to be a bachelor. And especially _her_. I've seen pictures. The woman is a perfect physical fucking beauty, ten of ten would bang, while you're a strong five when the light is right."

"Listen, Iblis, can you…can you maybe do something? Some low-scale evil, nothing too serious, but just troublesome enough to warrant my intervention?"

"Wha- _at_?" Iblis asks. "You want me to mess up your precious homeostasis just so you can get away from your nagging wife?"

"Just…some minor property damage, maybe? No casualties."

"I don't do _small-scale evil_ , Marid. You get apocalypse or nothing. Go hard or go home."

Nimrod sighs. "She's really very kind. She just…she loves an image of me, not me as I am. She doesn't know who I am. When I met her I thought maybe I could grow to love her as much as…" _As much as I love you,_ he wants to say, but he knows that Iblis will hang up on him as soon as the l-word is uttered in context to him.

"Come on, as if that _ever_ works" Iblis says in exasperation. "Listen, I'm literally the wrongest person for you to tell this to."

"You don't hold me to the same expectations as my family does. Who else should I tell?"

"Your wife, maybe? You tricked the poor woman, and yourself, into believing you're heterosexual for the longest time. You shouldn't have married her. You belong to me."

His unusual bluntness baffles Nimrod. "D-do I?" he stammers.

"You obviously do. Okay. Here's a suggestion. You know the big casino in Camden Town, the one with the red and green neon sign? It's also a hotel."

"Yes, I know it."

"Come there…let's see…tomorrow night after dinner. Ask the girl at the check-in for…the spare key to the Regency suite. And, most importantly, as long as you're there _don't tell anybody your name._ That's really important. I'll be awaiting you, but I won't be cross if you decide not to turn up. You can bail out at _any_ time."

"Wait, what are you planning?"

"See you, Marid. Or not."

Iblis hangs up.

* * *

Nimrod is fiddling with his tie in apprehension as he approaches the check-in. Yes, he turned up. Of course he did.

There's a young mundane girl manning – or rather womaning – the check-in, black hair, approximately twenty years old, chewing gum. Nothing out of the ordinary here. When she sees him, she adapts a chipper smile.

"Good evening, sir, what can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm…" _Don't tell anybody your name._ "I, I'm here about the…spare key for the Regency suite" he tries.

Her smile doesn't waver for a second. "Oh, I see, sir. Please follow me."

Nimrod follows the girl into the elevator and tries to suppress his claustrophobia as she presses the button for the fourth floor. They go up, along a hallway and to a door looking like any other. The girl knocks.

"He's here, sir" she announces.

The door gets opened just a crack. A hand emerges, holding a twenty dollar note. "Perfect" someone says. "Here's for your troubles, Clarisse."

The check-in girl accepts the money and walks away. Nimrod doesn't pay any attention to her though, as the door opens fully and reveals Iblis, who doesn't waste time but grabs him by the tie and pulls him into the room, locking the door behind him.

"Now could you explain to me what…?" Nimrod starts, but gets interrupted as Iblis pushes him into the wall and pulls him in for a rough, breathless kiss. There suddenly is a swift tongue in his mouth, and all Nimrod can do is produce little sounds of surprise. Pleasant little chills start running down his body, but nonetheless he pushes Iblis off.

"Why?" he asks. "This is wrong…we are…" He doesn't even know what he wants to say they are. _Enemies? A guy and another guy? Committing adultery right now?_ Possibly all of the above.

Iblis looks up at him from under half-closed eyelids, the best bedroom eyes he can manage. And oh god, they're effective.

"Well, let's pretend we're not" he breathes, and attacks Nimrod's mouth again. This time Nimrod falls into the kiss, his arms coming up without waiting to consult his brain. One wraps itself around the Ifrit's waist and pulls him close, the other sneaks further up, fingers carding through soft, blond hair. This is so different to interacting with Alexandra. No awkwardness, no expectations, no insecure what-should-I-do-next. When Alexandra kisses him, he never knows what to do with his lips, with his hands. Now his reactions come naturally, without thought, like breathing. And then there are nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his suit jacket, and a knee parting his legs and it's obvious that Iblis has an agenda tonight. And Nimrod finds himself surprisingly willing to go along with it. Because all he can see, and hear, and taste is Iblis, all he can smell is Iblis's scent, and god knows he has wanted this, since they had both been teenage boys, wanted this. All doubts aside, this feels right, and every kiss tastes like more, more, more.

Iblis starts nibbling at his lip and it's the best thing ever, until a hand sneaks south and starts rubbing his crotch area. Now, _that_ is the best thing ever. He can feel an erection building in his pants and is pleasantly surprised. Alexandra, beautiful, gorgeous Alexandra, usually needs up to ten minutes to coerce him to go hard for her. With Iblis it's a matter of seconds.

Nimrod groans and breaks the kiss before they both suffocate. "Bedroom?" he asks.

"Yes…" Iblis says, but reconsiders. The Regency suite is huge, and the way to the bedroom suddenly seems entirely too long. The last thing he needs right now is to give the Marid space to make up his mind about what exactly they're doing here. "Actually not today" he says and drops to his knees. Time to get serious.

_How is he so bloody good at this?_ Nimrod can't help thinking. Iblis _teases_ him, endlessly, his touches feather-light and nimble, and just as Nimrod fears he'll be coming completely undone any second, he finally tugs his pants off and takes him in his mouth. His touches are not the clumsy, timid ones of someone working a cock for the very first time. It's almost like this is _routine_ to him, as if he gets onto his knees for men on a regular basis. Which is odd. Iblis with all his women, all his kids…Nimrod had pegged him as straight as a board, before. And then he deep-throats him, and he has no gag reflex, absolutely none, zero, nada. _Makes one wonder…_ Nimrod thinks, but soon enough, all thought seizes. There are only waves of overwhelming pleasure. His legs are shaking and threatening to give out, and there's nothing in reach to clutch onto, so he steadies himself on Iblis' shoulder and fists another hand into his hair, which makes Iblis moan against his prick. That little sound is what sends Nimrod over the edge and he comes, panting, into his greatest enemy's mouth, and Iblis swallows it all without complaint.

As Nimrod leans onto Iblis and comes down from the most quality orgasm in – ugh, years – he feels Iblis shift uncomfortably under him. He backs off an inch and lets his eyes slide from the frown on Iblis' face to the outline of his own erection in his dress pants.

_Well, that…looks…impressive_ Nimrod thinks, unintentionally licking his lips.

"How…annoying" Iblis says. "Must be your pulling my hair that did this. Get off me, I'm going to the bathroom."

"Wait…what are you planning on _doing_ in the bathroom?"

"Taking care of business, what do you think? I'm gonna get myself off real quick, join you in a few."

"But…I want to do this for you."

Iblis stares at him with a totally blank expression. After a few seconds he blinks twice.

"Is…something wrong with that?" Nimrod asks.

"Uh. No. No, it's just…I just…I didn't…" The words he wants to say turn into a pit of writhing snakes and not the cute kind. It's not that Iblis feels insecure about being touched, not really. He knows (and any look in the mirror will confirm) that he has what many women, and quite some men, have in the past wanted. But when it comes to Nimrod, he's suddenly less-than, in every sense of the word not good enough, and his body feels _filthy_ , covered in the blood of too many strangers. Why would someone like Nimrod want to have any contact with _this_?

"You don't have to, Marid. You don't owe me."

As softly as he can manage, Nimrod pushes Iblis down on the nearest couch.

"You know I want to. Iblis, you know I love you." He lets his hands ghost over the Ifrit's body, stopping to slowly unbutton his shirt. Iblis visibly shudders and shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts from the sudden surge of endorphins.

"Nimrod, I have killed-" his breath hitches as Nimrod's hand draw circles on his chest, toying ever-so-gently with a rigid nipple, "-thousands of people and I'm not-" he gasps softly as the hands move lower and tease him through the fabric of his pants, " _mmh-nngh_ , not planning on stopping anytime soon, I have-" his voice is thick with his arousal, much like his cock that's aching for the Marid's touch, but he has to soldier through this, "-I have murdered, tortured, destroyed and stolen, and pretty much done every other crime in the book, so maybe you should _stop that oh god_ and search for someone worthy of your love."

"I consider you worthy of my love" Nimrod replies way too casually as he opens the other's pants. "I don't know, but maybe it's the fact that every time we meet you take care to remind me that I deserve someone better than you that makes me think you're not yet lost."

Iblis' breath is coming in short pants by now, but he gets out: "You're-delu-sional."

"Mmmh, maybe" Nimrod says. "But maybe it's you who's delusional. Alas, if you insist…"

He withdraws his hands and straightens his back. Iblis makes a high whining noise and writhes at the loss.

"You come back here, you little fuckturd!" It is a word that Nimrod has never heard before. He doubts he would be able to find it in a dictionary.

"Who's delusional?"

"I'm delusional, ple-e- _ease_ …"

Nimrod smiles, knowing that the fact that he has just made the most renowned evil djinn in the world beg will give him warmth on long, lonely nights. He reapplies his hands and gets the other man off in earnest, starting with long, languid strokes, then taking up his pace, reveling in every breathless moan he gets in return. When Iblis comes it's his whole body coiling, and then going boneless with bliss and it's beautiful and as Nimrod watches, he knows that he is doomed. They both are. But in a way they always were.

"You should be on your way, shouldn't you?" Iblis whispers a while later. "Back to your wife, that is."

"My…wife" Nimrod repeats slowly. For a few glorious minutes there he had forgotten about Alexandra, about that whole confused wreck of a relationship they have. He sighs. "Yes, I should be going back. Thank you for tonight, old friend."

"Not a big deal." Iblis sits up and tries to smooth down his obvious sex hair. Giving up on it, he reaches over and corrects Nimrod's tie instead. "You know, we can go on like this to your heart's content. I think I'll be in London for a while."

He lets the offer linger. Nimrod knows he doesn't have to answer now.

Only when he walks home, alone, does it occur to him on how many levels the things he did right now are wrong, and how guilty he should feel.


End file.
